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diff --git a/14367-0.txt b/14367-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c34df8 --- /dev/null +++ b/14367-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10152 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14367 *** + +WHEN A MAN'S +A MAN + +BY +HAROLD BELL WRIGHT + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK +By arrangement with D. Appleton-Century Co. + +1916 + + + + +TO MY SONS +GILBERT AND PAUL NORMAN +THIS STORY OF MANHOOD +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED +BY THEIR FATHER + + + + +_Acknowledgment_ + + +It is fitting that I should here express my indebtedness to those +Williamson Valley friends who in the kindness of their hearts made this +story possible. + +To Mr. George A. Carter, who so generously introduced me to the scenes +described in these pages, and who, on the Pot-Hook-S ranch, gave to my +family one of the most delightful summers we have ever enjoyed; to Mr. +J.H. Stephens and his family, who so cordially welcomed me at rodeo +time; to Mr. and Mrs. Joe Contreras, for their kindly hospitality; to +Mr. and Mrs. J.W. Stewart, who, while this story was first in the +making, made me so much at home in the Cross-Triangle home-ranch; to Mr. +J.W. Cook, my constant companion, helpful guide, patient teacher and +tactful sponsor, who, with his charming wife, made his home mine; to Mr. +and Mrs. Herbert N. Cook, and to the many other cattlemen and cowboys, +with whom, on the range, in the rodeos, in the wild horse chase about +Toohey, after outlaw cattle in Granite Basin, in the corrals and +pastures, I rode and worked and lived, my gratitude is more than I can +put in words. Truer friends or better companions than these +great-hearted, outspoken, hardy riders, no man could have. If my story +in any degree wins the approval of these, my comrades of ranch and +range. I shall be proud and happy. H.B.W. + + "CAMP HOLE-IN-THE-MOUNTAIN" + NEAR TUCSON, ARIZONA + APRIL 29, 1916 + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + I. AFTER THE CELEBRATION 11 + II. ON THE DIVIDE 23 + III. IN THE BIG PASTURE 35 + IV. AT THE CORRAL 47 + V. A BIT OF THE PAST 81 + VI. THE DRIFT FENCE 91 + VII. THINGS THAT ENDURE 115 +VIII. CONCERNING BRANDS 133 + IX. THE TAILHOLT MOUNTAIN OUTFIT 159 + X. THE RODEO 181 + XI. AFTER THE RODEO 197 + XII. FRONTIER DAY 239 +XIII. IN GRANITE BASIN 261 + XIV. AT MINT SPRING 281 + XV. ON CEDAR RIDGE 297 + XVI. THE SKY LINE 323 + +[Illustration: WHEN A MAN'S A MAN] + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +AFTER THE CELEBRATION. + + +There is a land where a man, to live, must be a man. It is a land of +granite and marble and porphyry and gold--and a man's strength must be +as the strength of the primeval hills. It is a land of oaks and cedars +and pines--and a man's mental grace must be as the grace of the untamed +trees. It is a land of far-arched and unstained skies, where the wind +sweeps free and untainted, and the atmosphere is the atmosphere of those +places that remain as God made them--and a man's soul must be as the +unstained skies, the unburdened wind, and the untainted atmosphere. It +is a land of wide mesas, of wild, rolling pastures and broad, untilled, +valley meadows--and a man's freedom must be that freedom which is not +bounded by the fences of a too weak and timid conventionalism. + +In this land every man is--by divine right--his own king; he is his own +jury, his own counsel, his own judge, and--if it must be--his own +executioner. And in this land where a man, to live, must be a man, a +woman, if she be not a woman, must surely perish. + +This is the story of a man who regained that which in his youth had been +lost to him; and of how, even when he had recovered that which had been +taken from him, he still paid the price of his loss. It is the story of +a woman who was saved from herself; and of how she was led to hold fast +to those things, the loss of which cost the man so great a price. + +The story, as I have put it down here, begins at Prescott, Arizona, on +the day following the annual Fourth-of-July celebration in one of those +far-western years that saw the passing of the Indian and the coming of +the automobile. + +The man was walking along one of the few roads that lead out from the +little city, through the mountain gaps and passes, to the wide, unfenced +ranges, and to the lonely scattered ranches on the creeks and flats and +valleys of the great open country that lies beyond. + +From the fact that he was walking in that land where the distances are +such that men most commonly ride, and from the many marks that +environment and training leave upon us all, it was evident that the +pedestrian was a stranger. He was a man in the prime of young +manhood--tall and exceedingly well proportioned--and as he went forward +along the dusty road he bore himself with the unconscious air of one +more accustomed to crowded streets than to that rude and unpaved +highway. His clothing bore the unmistakable stamp of a tailor of rank. +His person was groomed with that nicety of detail that is permitted only +to those who possess both means and leisure, as well as taste. It was +evident, too, from his movement and bearing, that he had not sought the +mile-high atmosphere of Prescott with the hope that it holds out to +those in need of health. But, still, there was a something about him +that suggested a lack of the manly vigor and strength that should have +been his. + +A student of men would have said that Nature made this man to be in +physical strength and spiritual prowess, a comrade and leader of men--a +man's man--a man among men. The same student, looking more closely, +might have added that in some way--through some cruel trick of +fortune--this man had been cheated of his birthright. + +The day was still young when the stranger gained the top of the first +hill where the road turns to make its steep and winding way down through +scattered pines and scrub oak to the Burnt Ranch. + +Behind him the little city--so picturesque in its mountain basin, with +the wild, unfenced land coming down to its very dooryards--was slowly +awakening after the last mad night of its celebration. The tents of the +tawdry shows that had tempted the crowds with vulgar indecencies, and +the booths that had sheltered the petty games of chance where +loud-voiced criers had persuaded the multitude with the hope of winning +a worthless bauble or a tinsel toy, were being cleared away from the +borders of the plaza, the beauty of which their presence had marred. In +the plaza itself--which is the heart of the town, and is usually kept +with much pride and care--the bronze statue of the vigorous Rough Rider +Bucky O'Neil and his spirited charger seemed pathetically out of place +among the litter of colored confetti and exploded fireworks, and the +refuse from various "treats" and lunches left by the celebrating +citizens and their guests. The flags and bunting that from window and +roof and pole and doorway had given the day its gay note of color hung +faded and listless, as though, spent with their gaiety, and mutely +conscious that the spirit and purpose of their gladness was past, they +waited the hand that would remove them to the ash barrel and the rubbish +heap. + +Pausing, the man turned to look back. + +For some minutes he stood as one who, while determined upon a certain +course, yet hesitates--reluctant and regretful--at the beginning of his +venture. Then he went on; walking with a certain reckless swing, as +though, in ignorance of that land toward which he had set his face, he +still resolutely turned his back upon that which lay behind. It was as +though, for this man, too, the gala day, with its tinseled bravery and +its confetti spirit, was of the past. + +A short way down the hill the man stopped again. This time to stand half +turned, with his head in a listening attitude. The sound of a vehicle +approaching from the way whence he had come had reached his ear. + +As the noise of wheels and hoofs grew louder a strange expression of +mingled uncertainty, determination, and something very like fear came +over his face. He started forward, hesitated, looked back, then turned +doubtfully toward the thinly wooded mountain side. Then, with tardy +decision he left the road and disappeared behind a clump of oak bushes, +an instant before a team and buckboard rounded the turn and appeared in +full view. + +An unmistakable cattleman--grizzly-haired, square-shouldered and +substantial--was driving the wild looking team. Beside him sat a +motherly woman and a little boy. + +As they passed the clump of bushes the near horse of the half-broken +pair gave a catlike bound to the right against his tracemate. A second +jump followed the first with flash-like quickness; and this time the +frightened animal was accompanied by his companion, who, not knowing +what it was all about, jumped on general principles. But, quick as they +were, the strength of the driver's skillful arms met their weight on the +reins and forced them to keep the road. + +"You blamed fools"--the driver chided good-naturedly, as they plunged +ahead--"been raised on a cow ranch to get scared at a calf in the +brush!" + +Very slowly the stranger came from behind the bushes. Cautiously he +returned to the road. His fine lips curled in a curious mocking smile. +But it was himself that he mocked, for there was a look in his dark eyes +that gave to his naturally strong face an almost pathetic expression of +self-depreciation and shame. + +As the pedestrian crossed the creek at the Burnt Ranch, Joe Conley, +leading a horse by a riata which was looped as it had fallen about the +animal's neck, came through the big corral gate across the road from +the house. At the barn Joe disappeared through the small door of the +saddle room, the coil of the riata still in his hand, thus compelling +his mount to await his return. + +At sight of the cowboy the stranger again paused and stood hesitating in +indecision. But as Joe reappeared from the barn with bridle, saddle +blanket and saddle in hand, the man went reluctantly forward as though +prompted by some necessity. + +"Good morning!" said the stranger, courteously, and his voice was the +voice that fitted his dress and bearing, while his face was now the +carefully schooled countenance of a man world-trained and well-poised. + +With a quick estimating glance Joe returned the stranger's greeting and, +dropping the saddle and blanket on the ground, approached his horse's +head. Instantly the animal sprang back, with head high and eyes defiant; +but there was no escape, for the rawhide riata was still securely held +by his master. There was a short, sharp scuffle that sent the gravel by +the roadside flying--the controlling bit was between the reluctant +teeth--and the cowboy, who had silently taken the horse's objection as a +matter of course, adjusted the blanket, and with the easy skill of long +practice swung the heavy saddle to its place. + +As the cowboy caught the dangling cinch, and with a deft hand tucked the +latigo strap through the ring and drew it tight, there was a look of +almost pathetic wistfulness on the watching stranger's face--a look of +wistfulness and admiration and envy. + +Dropping the stirrup, Joe again faced the stranger, this time +inquiringly, with that bold, straightforward look so characteristic of +his kind. + +And now, when the man spoke, his voice had a curious note, as if the +speaker had lost a little of his poise. It was almost a note of apology, +and again in his eyes there was that pitiful look of self-depreciation +and shame. + +"Pardon me," he said, "but will you tell me, please, am I right that +this is the road to the Williamson Valley?" + +The stranger's manner and voice were in such contrast to his general +appearance that the cowboy frankly looked his wonder as he answered +courteously, "Yes, sir." + +"And it will take me direct to the Cross-Triangle Ranch?" + +"If you keep straight ahead across the valley, it will. If you take the +right-hand fork on the ridge above the goat ranch, it will take you to +Simmons. There's a road from Simmons to the Cross-Triangle on the far +side of the valley, though. You can see the valley and the +Cross-Triangle home ranch from the top of the Divide." + +"Thank you." + +The stranger was turning to go when the man in the blue jumper and +fringed leather chaps spoke again, curiously. + +"The Dean with Stella and Little Billy passed in the buckboard less than +an hour ago, on their way home from the celebration. Funny they didn't +pick you up, if you're goin' there!" + +The other paused questioningly. "The Dean?" + +The cowboy smiled. "Mr. Baldwin, the owner of the Cross-Triangle, you +know." + +"Oh!" The stranger was clearly embarrassed. Perhaps he was thinking of +that clump of bushes on the mountain side. + +Joe, loosing his riata from the horse's neck, and coiling it carefully, +considered a moment. Then: "You ain't goin' to walk to the +Cross-Triangle, be you?" + +That self-mocking smile touched the man's lips; but there was a hint of +decisive purpose in his voice as he answered, "Oh, yes." + +Again the cowboy frankly measured the stranger. Then he moved toward the +corral gate, the coiled riata in one hand, the bridle rein in the other. +"I'll catch up a horse for you," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if +reaching a decision. + +The other spoke hastily. "No, no, please don't trouble." + +Joe paused curiously. "Any friend of Mr. Baldwin's is welcome to +anything on the Burnt Ranch, Stranger." + +"But I--ah--I--have never met Mr. Baldwin," explained the other lamely. + +"Oh, that's all right," returned the cowboy heartily. "You're a-goin' +to, an' that's the same thing." Again he started toward the gate. + +"But I--pardon me--you are very kind--but I--I prefer to walk." + +Once more Joe halted, a puzzled expression on his tanned and +weather-beaten face. "I suppose you know it's some walk," he suggested +doubtfully, as if the man's ignorance were the only possible solution of +his unheard-of assertion. + +"So I understand. But it will be good for me. Really, I prefer to walk." + +Without a word the cowboy turned back to his horse, and proceeded +methodically to tie the coiled riata in its place on the saddle. Then, +without a glance toward the stranger who stood watching him in +embarrassed silence, he threw the bridle reins over his horse's head, +gripped the saddle horn and swung to his seat, reining his horse away +from the man beside the road. + +The stranger, thus abruptly dismissed, moved hurriedly away. + +Half way to the creek the cowboy checked his horse and looked back at +the pedestrian as the latter was making his way under the pines and up +the hill. When the man had disappeared over the crest of the hill, the +cowboy muttered a bewildered something, and, touching his horse with the +spurs, loped away, as if dismissing a problem too complex for his simple +mind. + +All that day the stranger followed the dusty, unfenced road. Over his +head the wide, bright sky was without a cloud to break its vast expanse. +On the great, open range of mountain, flat and valley the cattle lay +quietly in the shade of oak or walnut or cedar, or, with slow, listless +movement, sought the watering places to slake their thirst. The wild +things retreated to their secret hiding places in rocky den and leafy +thicket to await the cool of the evening hunting hour. The very air was +motionless, as if the never-tired wind itself drowsed indolently. + +And alone in the hushed bigness of that land the man walked with his +thoughts--brooding, perhaps, over whatever it was that had so strangely +placed him there--dreaming, it may be, over that which might have been, +or that which yet might be--viewing with questioning, wondering, +half-fearful eyes the mighty, untamed scenes that met his eye on every +hand. Nor did anyone see him, for at every sound of approaching horse or +vehicle he went aside from the highway to hide in the bushes or behind +convenient rocks. And always when he came from his hiding place to +resume his journey that odd smile of self-mockery was on his face. + +At noon he rested for a little beside the road while he ate a meager +sandwich that he took from the pocket of his coat. Then he pushed on +again, with grim determination, deeper and deeper into the heart and +life of that world which was, to him, so evidently new and strange. The +afternoon was well spent when he made his way--wearily now, with +drooping shoulders and dragging step--up the long slope of the Divide +that marks the eastern boundary of the range about Williamson Valley. + +At the summit, where the road turns sharply around a shoulder of the +mountain and begins the steep descent on the other side of the ridge, he +stopped. His tired form straightened. His face lighted with a look of +wondering awe, and an involuntary exclamation came from his lips as his +unaccustomed eyes swept the wide view that lay from his feet unrolled +before him. + +Under that sky, so unmatched in its clearness and depth of color, the +land lay in all its variety of valley and forest and mesa and +mountain--a scene unrivaled in the magnificence and grandeur of its +beauty. Miles upon miles in the distance, across those primeval reaches, +the faint blue peaks and domes and ridges of the mountains ranked--an +uncounted sentinel host. The darker masses of the timbered hillsides, +with the varying shades of pine and cedar, the lighter tints of oak +brush and chaparral, the dun tones of the open grass lands, and the +brighter note of the valley meadows' green were defined, blended and +harmonized by the overlying haze with a delicacy exquisite beyond all +human power to picture. And in the nearer distances, chief of that army +of mountain peaks, and master of the many miles that lie within their +circle, Granite Mountain, gray and grim, reared its mighty bulk of cliff +and crag as if in supreme defiance of the changing years or the hand of +humankind. + +In the heart of that beautiful land upon which, from the summit of the +Divide, the stranger looked with such rapt appreciation, lies Williamson +Valley, a natural meadow of lush, dark green, native grass. And, had the +man's eyes been trained to such distances, he might have distinguished +in the blue haze the red roofs of the buildings of the Cross-Triangle +Ranch. + +For some time the man stood there, a lonely figure against the sky, +peculiarly out of place in his careful garb of the cities. The schooled +indifference of his face was broken. His self-depreciation and mockery +were forgotten. His dark eyes glowed with the fire of excited +anticipation--with hope and determined purpose. Then, with a quick +movement, as though some ghost of the past had touched him on the +shoulder, he looked back on the way he had come. And the light in his +eyes went out in the gloom of painful memories. His countenance, +unguarded because of his day of loneliness, grew dark with sadness and +shame. It was as though he looked beyond the town he had left that +morning, with its litter and refuse of yesterday's pleasure, to a life +and a world of tawdry shams, wherein men give themselves to win by means +fair or foul the tinsel baubles that are offered in the world's petty +games of chance. + +And yet, even as he looked back, there was in the man's face as much of +longing as of regret. He seemed as one who, realizing that he had +reached a point in his life journey--a divide, as it were--from which he +could see two ways, was resolved to turn from the path he longed to +follow and to take the road that appealed to him the least. As one +enlisting to fight in a just and worthy cause might pause a moment, +before taking the oath of service, to regret the ease and freedom he was +about to surrender, so this man paused on the summit of the Divide. + +Slowly, at last, in weariness of body and spirit, he stumbled a few feet +aside from the road, and, sinking down upon a convenient rock, gave +himself again to the contemplation of that scene which lay before him. +And there was that in his movement now that seemed to tell of one who, +in the grip of some bitter and disappointing experience, was yet being +forced by something deep in his being to reach out in the strength of +his manhood to take that which he had been denied. + +Again the man's untrained eyes had failed to note that which would have +first attracted the attention of one schooled in the land that lay about +him. He had not seen a tiny moving speck on the road over which he had +passed. A horseman was riding toward him. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ON THE DIVIDE. + + +Had the man on the Divide noticed the approaching horseman it would have +been evident, even to one so unacquainted with the country as the +stranger, that the rider belonged to that land of riders. While still at +a distance too great for the eye to distinguish the details of fringed +leather chaps, soft shirt, short jumper, sombrero, spurs and riata, no +one could have mistaken the ease and grace of the cowboy who seemed so +literally a part of his horse. His seat in the saddle was so secure, so +easy, and his bearing so unaffected and natural, that every movement of +the powerful animal he rode expressed itself rhythmically in his own +lithe and sinewy body. + +While the stranger sat wrapped in meditative thought, unheeding the +approach of the rider, the horseman, coming on with a long, swinging +lope, watched the motionless figure on the summit of the Divide with +careful interest. As he drew nearer the cowboy pulled his horse down to +a walk, and from under his broad hat brim regarded the stranger +intently. He was within a few yards of the point where the man sat when +the latter caught the sound of the horse's feet, and, with a quick, +startled look over his shoulder, sprang up and started as if to escape. +But it was too late, and, as though on second thought, he whirled about +with a half defiant air to face the intruder. + +The horseman stopped. He had not missed the significance of that hurried +movement, and his right hand rested carelessly on his leather clad +thigh, while his grey eyes were fixed boldly, inquiringly, almost +challengingly, on the man he had so unintentionally surprised. + +As he sat there on his horse, so alert, so ready, in his cowboy garb and +trappings, against the background of Granite Mountain, with all its +rugged, primeval strength, the rider made a striking picture of virile +manhood. Of some years less than thirty, he was, perhaps, neither as +tall nor as heavy as the stranger; but in spite of a certain boyish look +on his smooth-shaven, deeply-bronzed face, he bore himself with the +unmistakable air of a matured and self-reliant man. Every nerve and +fiber of him seemed alive with that vital energy which is the true +beauty and the glory of life. + +The two men presented a striking contrast. Without question one was the +proud and finished product of our most advanced civilization. It was as +evident that the splendid manhood of the other had never been dwarfed by +the weakening atmosphere of an over-cultured, too conventional and too +complex environment. The stranger with his carefully tailored clothing +and his man-of-the-world face and bearing was as unlike this rider of +the unfenced lands as a daintily groomed thoroughbred from the +sheltered and guarded stables of fashion is unlike a wild, untamed +stallion from the hills and ranges about Granite Mountain. Yet, unlike +as they were, there was a something that marked them as kin. The man of +the ranges and the man of the cities were, deep beneath the surface of +their beings, as like as the spirited thoroughbred and the unbroken wild +horse. The cowboy was all that the stranger might have been. The +stranger was all that the cowboy, under like conditions, would have +been. + +As they silently faced each other it seemed for a moment that each +instinctively recognized this kinship. Then into the dark eyes of the +stranger--as when he had watched the cowboy at the Burnt Ranch--there +came that look of wistful admiration and envy. + +And at this, as if the man had somehow made himself known, the horseman +relaxed his attitude of tense readiness. The hand that had held the +bridle rein to command instant action of his horse, and the hand that +had rested so near the rider's hip, came together on the saddle horn in +careless ease, while a boyish smile of amusement broke over the young +man's face. + +That smile brought a flash of resentment into the eyes of the other and +a flush of red darkened his untanned cheeks. A moment he stood; then +with an air of haughty rebuke he deliberately turned his back, and, +seating himself again, looked away over the landscape. + +But the smiling cowboy did not move. For a moment as he regarded the +stranger his shoulders shook with silent, contemptuous laughter; then +his face became grave, and he looked a little ashamed. The minutes +passed, and still he sat there, quietly waiting. + +Presently, as if yielding to the persistent, silent presence of the +horseman, and submitting reluctantly to the intrusion, the other turned, +and again the two who were so like and yet so unlike faced each other. + +It was the stranger now who smiled. But it was a smile that caused the +cowboy to become on the instant kindly considerate. Perhaps he +remembered one of the Dean's favorite sayings: "Keep your eye on the man +who laughs when he's hurt." + +"Good evening!" said the stranger doubtfully, but with a hint of +conscious superiority in his manner. + +"Howdy!" returned the cowboy heartily, and in his deep voice was the +kindliness that made him so loved by all who knew him. "Been having some +trouble?" + +"If I have, it is my own, sir," retorted the other coldly. + +"Sure," returned the horseman gently, "and you're welcome to it. Every +man has all he needs of his own, I reckon. But I didn't mean it that +way; I meant your horse." + +The stranger looked at him questioningly. "Beg pardon?" he said. + +"What?" + +"I do not understand." + +"Your horse--where is your horse?" + +"Oh, yes! Certainly--of course--my horse--how stupid of me!" The tone of +the man's answer was one of half apology, and he was smiling whimsically +now as if at his own predicament, as he continued. "I have no horse. +Really, you know, I wouldn't know what to do with one if I had it." + +"You don't mean to say that you drifted all the way out here from +Prescott on foot!" exclaimed the astonished cowboy. + +The man on the ground looked up at the horseman, and in a droll tone +that made the rider his friend, said, while he stretched his long legs +painfully: "I like to walk. You see I--ah--fancied it would be good for +me, don't you know." + +The cowboy laughingly considered--trying, as he said afterward, to +figure it out. It was clear that this tall stranger was not in search of +health, nor did he show any of the distinguishing marks of the tourist. +He certainly appeared to be a man of means. He could not be looking for +work. He did not seem a suspicious character--quite the contrary--and +yet--there was that significant hurried movement as if to escape when +the horseman had surprised him. The etiquette of the country forbade a +direct question, but-- + +"Yes," he agreed thoughtfully, "walking comes in handy sometimes. I +don't take to it much myself, though." Then he added shrewdly, "You were +at the celebration, I reckon." + +The stranger's voice betrayed quick enthusiasm, but that odd wistfulness +crept into his eyes again and he seemed to lose a little of his poise. + +"Indeed I was," he said. "I never saw anything to compare with it. I've +seen all kinds of athletic sports and contests and exhibitions, with +circus performances and riding, and that sort of thing, you know, and +I've read about such things, of course, but"--and his voice grew +thoughtful--"that men ever actually did them--and all in the day's +work, as you may say--I--I never dreamed that there _were_ men like that +in these days." + +The cowboy shifted his weight uneasily in the saddle, while he regarded +the man on the ground curiously. "She was sure a humdinger of a +celebration," he admitted, "but as for the show part I've seen things +happen when nobody was thinking anything about it that would make those +stunts at Prescott look funny. The horse racing was pretty good, +though," he finished, with suggestive emphasis. + +The other did not miss the point of the suggestion. "I didn't bet on +anything," he laughed. + +"It's funny nobody picked you up on the road out here," the cowboy next +offered pointedly. "The folks started home early this morning--and Jim +Reid and his family passed me about an hour ago--they were in an +automobile. The Simmons stage must have caught up with you somewhere." + +The stranger's face flushed, and he seemed trying to find some answer. + +The cowboy watched him curiously; then in a musing tone added the +suggestion, "Some lonesome up here on foot." + +"But there are times, you know," returned the other desperately, "when a +man prefers to be alone." + +The cowboy straightened in his saddle and lifted his reins. "Thanks," he +said dryly, "I reckon I'd better be moving." + +But the other spoke quickly. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Acton, I did not +mean that for you." + +The horseman dropped his hands again to the saddle horn, and resumed his +lounging posture, thus tacitly accepting the apology. "You have the +advantage of me," he said. + +The stranger laughed. "Everyone knows that 'Wild Horse Phil' of the +Cross-Triangle Ranch won the bronco-riding championship yesterday. I saw +you ride." + +Philip Acton's face showed boyish embarrassment. + +The other continued, with his strange enthusiasm. "It was great +work--wonderful! I never saw anything like it." + +There was no mistaking the genuineness of his admiration, nor could he +hide that wistful look in his eyes. + +"Shucks!" said the cowboy uneasily. "I could pick a dozen of the boys in +that outfit who can ride all around me. It was just my luck, that's +all--I happened to draw an easy one." + +"Easy!" ejaculated the stranger, seeing again in his mind the fighting, +plunging, maddened, outlawed brute that this boy-faced man had mastered. +"And I suppose catching and throwing those steers was easy, too?" + +The cowboy was plainly wondering at the man's peculiar enthusiasm for +these most commonplace things. "The roping? Why, that was no more than +we're doing all the time." + +"I don't mean the roping," returned the other, "I mean when you rode up +beside one of those steers that was running at full speed, and caught +him by the horns with your bare hands, and jumped from your saddle, and +threw the beast over you, and then lay there with his horns pinning you +down! You aren't doing that all the time, are you? You don't mean to +tell me that such things as that are a part of your everyday work!" + +"Oh, the bull doggin'! Why, no," admitted Phil, with an embarrassed +laugh, "that was just fun, you know." + +The stranger stared at him, speechless. Fun! In the name of all that is +most modern in civilization, what manner of men were these who did such +things in fun! If this was their recreation, what must their work be! + +"Do you mind my asking," he said wistfully, "how you learned to do such +things?" + +"Why, I don't know--we just do them, I reckon." + +"And could anyone learn to ride as you ride, do you think?" The question +came with marked eagerness. + +"I don't see why not," answered the cowboy honestly. + +The stranger shook his head doubtfully and looked away over the wild +land where the shadows of the late afternoon were lengthening. + +"Where are you going to stop to-night?" Phil Acton asked suddenly. + +The stranger did not take his eyes from the view that seemed to hold for +him such peculiar interest. "Really," he answered indifferently, "I had +not thought of that." + +"I should think you'd be thinking of it along about supper time, if +you've walked from town since morning." + +The stranger looked up with sudden interest; but the cowboy fancied that +there was a touch of bitterness under the droll tone of his reply. "Do +you know, Mr. Acton, I have never been really hungry in my life. It +might be interesting to try it once, don't you think?" + +Phil Acton laughed, as he returned, "It might be interesting, all right, +but I think I better tell you, just the same, that there's a ranch down +yonder in the timber. It's nothing but a goat ranch, but I reckon they +would take you in. It's too far to the Cross-Triangle for me to ask you +there. You can see the buildings, though, from here." + +The stranger sprang up in quick interest. "You can? The Cross-Triangle +Ranch?" + +"Sure," the cowboy smiled and pointed into the distance. "Those red +spots over there are the roofs. Jim Reid's place--the Pot-Hook-S--is +just this side of the meadows, and a little to the south. The old Acton +homestead--where I was born--is in that bunch of cottonwoods, across the +wash from the Cross-Triangle." + +But strive as he might the stranger's eyes could discern no sign of +human habitation in those vast reaches that lay before him. + +"If you are ever over that way, drop in," said Phil cordially. "Mr. +Baldwin will be glad to meet you." + +"Do you really mean that?" questioned the other doubtfully. + +"We don't say such things in this country if we don't mean them, +Stranger," was the cool retort. + +"Of course, I beg your pardon, Mr. Acton," came the confused reply. "I +should like to see the ranch. I may--I will--That is, if I--" He stopped +as if not knowing how to finish, and with a gesture of hopelessness +turned away to stand silently looking back toward the town, while his +face was dark with painful memories, and his lips curved in that +mirthless, self-mocking smile. + +And Philip Acton, seeing, felt suddenly that he had rudely intruded upon +the privacy of one who had sought the solitude of that lonely place to +hide the hurt of some bitter experience. A certain native gentleness +made the man of the ranges understand that this stranger was face to +face with some crisis in his life--that he was passing through one of +those trials through which a man must pass alone. Had it been possible +the cowboy would have apologized. But that would have been an added +unkindness. Lifting the reins and sitting erect in the saddle, he said +indifferently, "Well, I must be moving. I take a short cut here. So +long! Better make it on down to the goat ranch--it's not far." + +He touched his horse with the spur and the animal sprang away. + +"Good-bye!" called the stranger, and that wistful look was in his eyes +as the rider swung his horse aside from the road, plunged down the +mountain side, and dashed away through the brush and over the rocks with +reckless speed. With a low exclamation of wondering admiration, the man +climbed hastily to a higher point, and from there watched until horse +and rider, taking a steeper declivity without checking their breakneck +course, dropped from sight in a cloud of dust. The faint sound of the +sliding rocks and gravel dislodged by the flying feet died away; the +cloud of dust dissolved in the thin air. The stranger looked away into +the blue distance in another vain attempt to see the red spots that +marked the Cross-Triangle Ranch. + +Slowly the man returned to his seat on the rock. The long shadows of +Granite Mountain crept out from the base of the cliffs farther and +farther over the country below. The blue of the distant hills changed to +mauve with deeper masses of purple in the shadows where the canyons are. +The lonely figure on the summit of the Divide did not move. + +The sun hid itself behind the line of mountains, and the blue of the sky +in the west changed slowly to gold against which the peaks and domes and +points were silhouetted as if cut by a graver's tool, and the bold +cliffs and battlements of old Granite grew coldly gray in the gloom. As +the night came on and the details of its structure were lost, the +mountain, to the watching man on the Divide, assumed the appearance of a +mighty fortress--a fortress, he thought, to which a generation of men +might retreat from a civilization that threatened them with destruction; +and once more the man faced back the way he had come. + +The far-away cities were already in the blaze of their own artificial +lights--lights valued not for their power to make men see, but for their +power to dazzle, attract and intoxicate--lights that permitted no kindly +dusk at eventide wherein a man might rest from his day's work--a quiet +hour; lights that revealed squalid shame and tinsel show--lights that +hid the stars. The man on the Divide lifted his face to the stars that +now in the wide-arched sky were gathering in such unnumbered multitudes +to keep their sentinel watch over the world below. + +The cool evening wind came whispering over the lonely land, and all the +furred and winged creatures of the night stole from their dark hiding +places into the gloom which is the beginning of their day. A coyote +crept stealthily past in the dark and from the mountain side below came +the weird, ghostly call of its mate. An owl drifted by on silent wings. +Night birds chirped in the chaparral. A fox barked on the ridge above. +The shadowy form of a bat flitted here and there. From somewhere in the +distance a bull bellowed his deep-voiced challenge. + +Suddenly the man on the summit of the Divide sprang to his feet and, +with a gesture that had he not been so alone might have seemed +affectedly dramatic, stretched out his arms in an attitude of wistful +longing while his lips moved as if, again and again, he whispered a +name. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +IN THE BIG PASTURE. + + +In the Williamson Valley country the spring round-up, or "rodeo," as it +is called in Arizona, and the shipping are well over by the last of +June. During the long summer weeks, until the beginning of the fall +rodeo in September, there is little for the riders to do. The cattle +roam free on the open ranges, while calves grow into yearlings, +yearlings become two-year-olds, and two-year-olds mature for the market. +On the Cross-Triangle and similar ranches, three or four of the steadier +year-round hands only are held. These repair and build fences, visit the +watering places, brand an occasional calf that somehow has managed to +escape the dragnet of the rodeo, and with "dope bottle" ever at hand +doctor such animals as are afflicted with screwworms. It is during these +weeks, too, that the horses are broken; for, with the hard and dangerous +work of the fall and spring months, there is always need for fresh +mounts. + +The horses of the Cross-Triangle were never permitted to run on the open +range. Because the leaders of the numerous bands of wild horses that +roamed over the country about Granite Mountain were always ambitious to +gain recruits for their harems from their civilized neighbors, the +freedom of the ranch horses was limited by the fences of a +four-thousand-acre pasture. But within these miles of barbed wire +boundaries the brood mares with their growing progeny lived as free and +untamed as their wild cousins on the unfenced lands about them. The +colts, except for one painful experience, when they were roped and +branded, from the day of their birth until they were ready to be broken +were never handled. + +On the morning following his meeting with the stranger on the Divide +Phil Acton, with two of his cowboy helpers, rode out to the big pasture +to bring in the band. + +The owner of the Cross-Triangle always declared that Phil was intimately +acquainted with every individual horse and head of stock between the +Divide and Camp Wood Mountain, and from Skull Valley to the Big Chino. +In moments of enthusiasm the Dean even maintained stoutly that his young +foreman knew as well every coyote, fox, badger, deer, antelope, mountain +lion, bobcat and wild horse that had home or hunting ground in the +country over which the lad had ridden since his babyhood. Certain it is +that "Wild Horse Phil," as he was called by admiring friends--for +reasons which you shall hear--loved this work and life to which he was +born. Every feature of that wild land, from lonely mountain peak to +hidden canyon spring, was as familiar to him as the streets and +buildings of a man's home city are well known to the one reared among +them. And as he rode that morning with his comrades to the day's work +the young man felt keenly the call of the primitive, unspoiled life that +throbbed with such vital strength about him. He could not have put that +which he felt into words; he was not even conscious of the forces that +so moved him; he only knew that he was glad. + +The days of the celebration at Prescott had been enjoyable days. To meet +old friends and comrades; to ride with them in the contests that all +true men of his kind love; to compare experiences and exchange news and +gossip with widely separated neighbors--had been a pleasure. But the +curious crowds of strangers; the throngs of sightseers from the, to him, +unknown world of cities, who had regarded him as they might have viewed +some rare and little-known creature in a menagerie, and the brazen +presence of those unclean parasites and harpies that prey always upon +such occasions had oppressed and disgusted him until he was glad to +escape again to the clean freedom, the pure vitality and the unspoiled +spirit of his everyday life and environment. In an overflow of sheer +physical and spiritual energy he lifted his horse into a run and with a +shrill cowboy yell challenged his companions to a wild race to the +pasture gate. + +It was some time after noon when Phil checked his horse near the ruins +of an old Indian lookout on the top of Black Hill. Below, in the open +land above Deep Wash, he could see his cowboy companions working the +band of horses that had been gathered slowly toward the narrow pass that +at the eastern end of Black Hill leads through to the flats at the upper +end of the big meadows, and so to the gate and to the way they would +follow to the corral. It was Phil's purpose to ride across Black Hill +down the western and northern slope, through the cedar timber, and, +picking up any horses that might be ranging there, join the others at +the gate. In the meanwhile there was time for a few minutes rest. +Dismounting, he loosed the girths and lifted saddle and blanket from +Hobson's steaming back. Then, while the good horse, wearied with the +hard riding and the steep climb up the mountain side, stood quietly in +the shade of a cedar his master, stretched on the ground near by, idly +scanned the world that lay below and about them. + +Very clearly in that light atmosphere Phil could see the trees and +buildings of the home ranch, and, just across the sandy wash from the +Cross-Triangle, the grove of cottonwoods and walnuts that hid the little +old house where he was born. A mile away, on the eastern side of the +great valley meadows, he could see the home buildings of the Reid +ranch--the Pot-Hook-S--where Kitty Reid had lived all the days of her +life except those three years which she had spent at school in the East. + +The young man on the top of Black Hill looked long at the Reid home. In +his mind he could see Kitty dressed in some cool, simple gown, fresh and +dainty after the morning's housework, sitting with book or sewing on the +front porch. The porch was on the other side of the house, it is true, +and the distance was too great for him to distinguish a person in any +case, but all that made no difference to Phil's vision--he could see her +just the same. + +Kitty had been very kind to Phil at the celebration. But Kitty was +always kind--nearly always. But in spite of her kindness the cowboy felt +that she had not, somehow, seemed to place a very high valuation upon +the medal he had won in the bronco-riding contest. Phil himself did not +greatly value the medal; but he had wanted greatly to win that +championship because of the very substantial money prize that went with +it. That money, in Phil's mind, was to play a very important part in a +long cherished dream that was one of the things that Phil Acton did not +talk about. He had not, in fact, ridden for the championship at all, but +for his dream, and that was why it mattered so much when Kitty seemed so +to lack interest in his success. + +As though his subconscious mind directed the movement, the young man +looked away from Kitty's home to the distant mountain ridge where the +night before on the summit of the Divide he had met the stranger. All +the way home the cowboy had wondered about the man; evolving many +theories, inventing many things to account for his presence, alone and +on foot, so far from the surroundings to which he was so clearly +accustomed. Of one thing Phil was sure--the man was in trouble--deep +trouble. The more that the clean-minded, gentle-hearted lad of the great +out-of-doors thought about it, the more strongly he felt that he had +unwittingly intruded at a moment that was sacred to the stranger--sacred +because the man was fighting one of those battles that every man must +fight--and fight alone. It was this feeling that had kept the young man +from speaking of the incident to anyone--even to the Dean, or to +"Mother," as he called Mrs. Baldwin. Perhaps, too, this feeling was the +real reason for Phil's sense of kinship with the stranger, for the +cowboy himself had moments in his life that he could permit no man to +look upon. But in his thinking of the man whose personality had so +impressed him one thing stood out above all the rest--the stranger +clearly belonged to that world of which, from experience, the young +foreman of the Cross-Triangle knew nothing. Phil Acton had no desire for +the world to which the stranger belonged, but in his heart there was a +troublesome question. If--if he himself were more like the man whom he +had met on the Divide; if--if he knew more of that other world; if he, +in some degree, belonged to that other world, as Kitty, because of her +three years in school belonged, would it make any difference? + +From the distant mountain ridge that marks the eastern limits of the +Williamson Valley country, and thus, in a degree, marked the limit of +Phil's world, the lad's gaze turned again to the scene immediately +before him. + +The band of horses, followed by the cowboys, were trotting from the +narrow pass out into the open flats. Some of the band--the mothers--went +quietly, knowing from past experience that they would in a few hours be +returned to their freedom. Others--the colts and yearlings--bewildered, +curious and fearful, followed their mothers without protest. But those +who in many a friendly race or primitive battle had proved their growing +years seemed to sense a coming crisis in their lives, hitherto peaceful. +And these, as though warned by that strange instinct which guards all +wild things, and realizing that the open ground between the pass and the +gate presented their last opportunity, made final desperate efforts to +escape. With sudden dashes, dodging and doubling, they tried again and +again for freedom. But always between them and the haunts they loved +there was a persistent horseman. Running, leaping, whirling, in their +efforts to be everywhere at once, the riders worked their charges toward +the gate. + +The man on the hilltop sprang to his feet. Hobson threw up his head, and +with sharp ears forward eagerly watched the game he knew so well. With a +quickness incredible to the uninitiated, Phil threw blanket and saddle +to place. As he drew the cinch tight, a shrill cowboy yell came up from +the flat below. + +One of the band, a powerful bay, had broken past the guarding horsemen, +and was running with every ounce of his strength for the timber on the +western slope of Black Hill. For a hundred yards one of the riders had +tried to overtake and turn the fugitive; but as he saw how the stride of +the free horse was widening the distance between them, the cowboy turned +back lest others follow the successful runaway's example. The yell was +to inform Phil of the situation. + +Before the echoes of the signal could die away Phil was in the saddle, +and with an answering shout sent Hobson down the rough mountain side in +a wild, reckless, plunging run to head the, for the moment, victorious +bay. An hour later the foreman rejoined his companions who were holding +the band of horses at the gate. The big bay, reluctant, protesting, +twisting and turning in vain attempts to outmaneuver Hobson, was a +captive in the loop of "Wild Horse Phil's" riata. + +In the big corral that afternoon Phil and his helpers with the Dean and +Little Billy looking on, cut out from the herd the horses selected to be +broken. These, one by one, were forced through the gate into the +adjoining corral, from which they watched with uneasy wonder and many +excited and ineffectual attempts to follow, when their more fortunate +companions were driven again to the big pasture. Then Phil opened +another gate, and the little band dashed wildly through, to find +themselves in the small meadow pasture where they would pass the last +night before the one great battle of their lives--a battle that would be +for them a dividing point between those years of ease and freedom which +had been theirs from birth and the years of hard and useful service that +were to come. + +Phil sat on his horse at the gate watching with critical eye as the +unbroken animals raced away. "Some good ones in the bunch this year, +Uncle Will," he commented to his employer, who, standing on the watering +trough in the other corral, was looking over the fence. + +"There's bound to be some good ones in every bunch," returned Mr. +Baldwin. "And some no account ones, too," he added, as his foreman +dismounted beside him. + +Then, while the young man slipped the bridle from his horse and stood +waiting for the animal to drink, the older man regarded him silently, as +though in his own mind the Dean's observation bore somewhat upon Phil +himself. That was always the way with the Dean. As Sheriff Fellows once +remarked to Judge Powell in the old days of the cattle rustlers' glory, +"Whatever Bill Baldwin says is mighty nigh always double-barreled." + +There are also two sides to the Dean. Or, rather, to be accurate, there +is a front and a back. The back--flat and straight and broad--indicates +one side of his character--the side that belongs with the square chin +and the blue eyes that always look at you with such frank directness. It +was this side of the man that brought him barefooted and penniless to +Arizona in those days long gone when he was only a boy and Arizona a +strong man's country. It was this side of him that brought him +triumphantly through those hard years of the Indian troubles, and in +those wild and lawless times made him respected and feared by the +evildoers and trusted and followed by those of his kind who, out of the +hardships and dangers of those turbulent days, made the Arizona of +to-day. It was this side, too, that finally made the barefoot, penniless +boy the owner of the Cross-Triangle Ranch. + +I do not know the exact number of the Dean's years--I only know that his +hair is grey, and that he does not ride as much as he once did. I have +heard him say, though, that for thirty-five years he lived in the +saddle, and that the Cross-Triangle brand is one of the oldest irons in +the State. And I know, too, that his back is still flat and broad and +straight. + +The Dean's front, so well-rounded and hearty, indicates as clearly the +other side of his character. And it is this side that belongs to the +full red cheeks, the ever-ready chuckle or laugh; that puts the twinkle +in the blue eyes, and the kindly tones in his deep voice. It is this +side of the Dean's character that adds so large a measure of love to the +respect and confidence accorded him by neighbors and friends, business +associates and employees. It is this side of the Dean, too, that, in +these days, sits in the shade of the big walnut trees--planted by his +own hand--and talks to the youngsters of the days that are gone, and +that makes the young riders of this generation seek him out for counsel +and sympathy and help. + +Three things the Dean knows--cattle and horses and men. One thing the +Dean will not, cannot tolerate--weakness in one who should be strong. +Even bad men he admires, if they are strong--not for their badness, but +for their strength. Mistaken men he loves in spite of their mistakes--if +only they be not weaklings. There is no place anywhere in the Dean's +philosophy of life for a weakling. I heard him tell a man once--nor +shall I ever forget it--"You had better die like a man, sir, than live +like a sneaking coyote." + +The Dean's sons, men grown, were gone from the home ranch to the fields +and work of their choosing. Little Billy, a nephew of seven years, +was--as Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin said laughingly--their second crop. + +When Phil's horse--satisfied--lifted his dripping muzzle from the +watering trough, the Dean walked with his young foreman to the saddle +shed. Neither of the men spoke, for between them there was that +companionship which does not require a constant flow of talk to keep it +alive. Not until the cowboy had turned his horse loose, and was hanging +saddle and bridle on their accustomed peg did the older man speak. + +"Jim Reid's goin' to begin breakin' horses next week." + +"So I heard," returned Phil, carefully spreading his saddle blanket to +dry. + +The Dean spoke again in a tone of indifference. "He wants you to help +him." + +"Me! What's the matter with Jack?" + +"He's goin' to the D.1 to-morrow." + +Phil was examining the wrapping on his saddle horn with--the Dean +noted--quite unnecessary care. + +"Kitty was over this mornin'," said the Dean gently. + +The young man turned, and, taking off his spurs, hung them on the saddle +horn. Then as he kicked off his leather chaps he said shortly, "I'm not +looking for a job as a professional bronco-buster." + +The Dean's eyes twinkled. "Thought you might like to help a neighbor +out; just to be neighborly, you know." + +"Do you want me to ride for Reid?" demanded Phil. + +"Well, I suppose as long as there's broncs to bust somebody's got to +bust 'em," the Dean returned, without committing himself. And then, when +Phil made no reply, he added laughing, "I told Kitty to tell him, +though, that I reckoned you had as big a string as you could handle +here." + +As they moved away toward the house, Phil returned with significant +emphasis, "When I have to ride for anybody besides you it won't be Kitty +Reid's father." + +And the Dean commented in his reflective tone, "It does sometimes seem +to make a difference who a man rides for, don't it?" + +In the pasture by the corrals, the horses that awaited the approaching +trial that would mark for them the beginning of a new life passed a +restless night. Some in meekness of spirit or, perhaps, with deeper +wisdom fed quietly. Others wandered about aimlessly, snatching an +occasional uneasy mouthful of grass, and looking about often in troubled +doubt. The more rebellious ones followed the fence, searching for some +place of weakness in the barbed barrier that imprisoned them. And one, +who, had he not been by circumstance robbed of his birthright, would +have been the strong leader of a wild band, stood often with wide +nostrils and challenging eye, gazing toward the corrals and buildings as +if questioning the right of those who had brought him there from the +haunts he loved. + +And somewhere in the night of that land which was as unknown to him as +the meadow pasture was strange to the unbroken horses, a man awaited the +day which, for him too, was to stand through all his remaining years as +a mark between the old life and the new. + +As Phil Acton lay in his bed, with doors and windows open wide to +welcome the cool night air, he heard the restless horses in the near-by +pasture, and smiled as he thought of the big bay and the morrow--smiled +with the smile of a man who looks forward to a battle worthy of his best +strength and skill. + +And then, strangely enough, as he was slipping into that dreamless sleep +of those who live as he lived, his mind went back again to the stranger +whom he had met on the summit of the Divide. If he were more like that +man, would it make any difference--the cowboy wondered. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +AT THE CORRAL. + + +In the beginning of the morning, when Granite Mountain's fortress-like +battlements and towers loomed gray and bold and grim, the big bay horse +trumpeted a warning to his less watchful mates. Instantly, with heads +high and eyes wide, the band stood in frightened indecision. Two +horsemen--shadowy and mysterious forms in the misty light--were riding +from the corral into the pasture. + +As the riders approached, individuals in the band moved uneasily, +starting as if to run, hesitating, turning for another look, maneuvering +to put their mates between them and the enemy. But the bay went boldly a +short distance toward the danger and stood still with wide nostrils and +fierce eyes as though ready for the combat. + +For a few moments, as the horsemen seemed about to go past, hope beat +high in the hearts of the timid prisoners. Then the riders circled to +put the band between themselves and the corral gate, and the frightened +animals knew. But always as they whirled and dodged in their attempts to +avoid that big gate toward which they were forced to move, there was a +silent, persistent horseman barring the way. The big bay alone, as +though realizing the futility of such efforts and so conserving his +strength for whatever was to follow, trotted proudly, boldly into the +corral, where he stood, his eyes never leaving the riders, as his mates +crowded and jostled about him. + +"There's one in that bunch that's sure aimin' to make you ride some," +said Curly Elson with a grin, to Phil, as the family sat at breakfast. + +On the Cross-Triangle the men who were held through the summer and +winter seasons between the months of the rodeos were considered members +of the family. Chosen for their character, as well as for their +knowledge of the country and their skill in their work the Dean and +"Stella," as Mrs. Baldwin is called throughout all that country, always +spoke of them affectionately as "our boys." And this, better than +anything that could be said, is an introduction to the mistress of the +Cross-Triangle household. + +At the challenging laugh which followed Curly's observation, Phil +returned quietly with his sunny smile, "Maybe I'll quit him before he +gets good and started." + +"He's sure fixin' to make you back the decision of them contest judges," +offered Bob Colton. + +And Mrs. Baldwin, young in spirit as any of her boys, added, "Better not +wear your medal, son. It might excite him to know that you are the +champion buster of Arizona." + +"Shucks!" piped up Little Billy excitedly, "Phil can ride anything what +wears hair, can't you, Phil?" + +Phil, embarrassed at the laughter which followed, said, with tactful +seriousness, to his little champion, "That's right, kid. You stand up +for your pardner every time, don't you? You'll be riding them yourself +before long. There's a little sorrel in that bunch that I've picked out +to gentle for you." He glanced at his employer meaningly, and the Dean's +face glowed with appreciation of the young man's thoughtfulness. "That +old horse, Sheep, of yours," continued Phil to Little Billy, "is getting +too old and stiff for your work. I've noticed him stumbling a lot +lately." Again he glanced inquiringly at the Dean, who answered the look +with a slight nod of approval. + +"You'd better make him gentle your horse first, Billy," teased Curly. +"He might not be in the business when that big one gets through with +him." + +Little Billy's retort came in a flash. "Huh, 'Wild Horse Phil' will be +a-ridin' 'em long after you've got your'n, Curly Elson." + +"Look out, son," cautioned the Dean, when the laugh had gone round +again. "Curly will be slippin' a burr under your saddle, if you don't." +Then to the men: "What horse is it that you boys think is goin' to be +such a bad one? That big bay with the blazed face?" + +The cowboys nodded. + +"He's bad, all right," said Phil. + +"Well," commented the Dean, leaning back in his chair and speaking +generally, "he's sure got a license to be bad. His mother was the +wickedest piece of horse flesh I ever knew. Remember her, Stella?" + +"Indeed I do," returned Mrs. Baldwin. "She nearly ruined that Windy Jim +who came from nobody knew where, and bragged that he could ride +anything." + +The Dean chuckled reminiscently. "She sure sent Windy back where he came +from. But I tell you, boys, that kind of a horse makes the best in the +world once you get 'em broke right. Horses are just like men, anyhow. If +they ain't got enough in 'em to fight when they're bein' broke, they +ain't generally worth breakin'." + +"The man that rides that bay will sure be a-horseback," said Curly. + +"He's a man's horse, all right," agreed Bob. + +Breakfast over, the men left the house, not too quietly, and laughing, +jesting and romping like school boys, went out to the corrals, with +Little Billy tagging eagerly at their heels. The Dean and Phil remained +for a few minutes at the table. + +"You really oughtn't to say such things to those boys, Will," reproved +Mrs. Baldwin, as she watched them from the window. "It encourages them +to be wild, and land knows they don't need any encouragement." + +"Shucks," returned the Dean, with that gentle note that was always in +his voice when he spoke to her. "If such talk as that can hurt 'em, +there ain't nothin' that could save 'em. You're always afraid somebody's +goin' to go bad. Look at me and Phil here," he added, as they in turn +pushed their chairs back from the table; "you've fussed enough over us +to spoil a dozen men, and ain't we been a credit to you all the time?" + +At this they laughed together. But as Phil was leaving the house Mrs. +Baldwin stopped him at the door to say earnestly, "You will be careful +to-day, won't you, son? You know my other Phil--" She stopped and turned +away. + +The young man knew that story--a story common to that land where the +lives of men are not infrequently offered a sacrifice to the untamed +strength of the life that in many forms they are daily called upon to +meet and master. + +"Never mind, mother," he said gently. "I'll be all right." Then more +lightly he added, with his sunny smile, "If that big bay starts anything +with me, I'll climb the corral fence pronto." + +Quietly, as one who faces a hard day's work, Phil went to the saddle +shed where he buckled on chaps and spurs. Then, after looking carefully +to stirrup leathers, cinch and latigos, he went on to the corrals, the +heavy saddle under his arm. + +Curly and Bob, their horses saddled and ready, were making animated +targets of themselves for Little Billy, who, mounted on Sheep, a gentle +old cow-horse, was whirling a miniature riata. As the foreman appeared, +the cowboys dropped their fun, and, mounting, took the coils of their +own rawhide ropes in hand. + +"Which one will you have first, Phil?" asked Curly, as he moved toward +the gate between the big corral and the smaller enclosure that held the +band of horses. + +"That black one with the white star will do," directed Phil quietly. +Then to Little Billy: "You'd better get back there out of the way, +pardner. That black is liable to jump clear over you and Sheep." + +"You better get outside, son," amended the Dean, who had come out to +watch the beginning of the work. + +"No, no--please, Uncle Will," begged the lad. "They can't get me as long +as I'm on Sheep." + +Phil and the Dean laughed. + +"I'll look out for him," said the young man. "Only," he added to the +boy, "you must keep out of the way." + +"And see that you stick to Sheep, if you expect him to take care of +you," finished the Dean, relenting. + +Meanwhile the gate between the corrals had been thrown open, and with +Bob to guard the opening Curly rode in among the unbroken horses to cut +out the animal indicated by Phil, and from within that circular +enclosure, where the earth had been ground to fine powder by hundreds of +thousands of frightened feet, came the rolling thunder of quick-beating +hoofs as in a swirling cloud of yellow dust the horses rushed and leaped +and whirled. Again and again the frightened animals threw themselves +against the barrier that hemmed them in; but that fence, built of cedar +posts set close in stockade fashion and laced on the outside with wire, +was made to withstand the maddened rush of the heaviest steers. And +always, amid the confusion of the frenzied animals, the figure of the +mounted man in their midst could be seen calmly directing their wildest +movements, and soon, out from the crowding, jostling, whirling mass of +flying feet and tossing manes and tails, the black with the white star +shot toward the gate. Bob's horse leaped aside from the way. Curly's +horse was between the black and his mates, and before the animal could +gather his confused senses he was in the larger corral. The day's work +had begun. + +The black dodged skillfully, and the loop of Curly's riata missed the +mark. + +"You better let somebody put eyes in that rope, Curly," remarked Phil, +laconically, as he stepped aside to avoid a wild rush. + +The chagrined cowboy said something in a low tone, so that Little Billy +could not hear. + +The Dean chuckled. + +Bob's riata whirled, shot out its snaky length, and his trained horse +braced himself skillfully to the black's weight on the rope. For a few +minutes the animal at the loop end of the riata struggled +desperately--plunging, tugging, throwing himself this way and that; but +always the experienced cow-horse turned with his victim and the rope was +never slack. When his first wild efforts were over and the black stood +with his wide braced feet, breathing heavily as that choking loop began +to tell, the strain on the taut riata was lessened, and Phil went +quietly toward the frightened captive. + +No one moved or spoke. This was not an exhibition the success of which +depended on the vicious wildness of the horse to be conquered. This was +work, and it was not Phil's business to provoke the black to extremes in +order to exhibit his own prowess as a rider for the pleasure of +spectators who had paid to see the show. The rider was employed to win +the confidence of the unbroken horse entrusted to him; to force +obedience, if necessary; to gentle and train, and so make of the wild +creature a useful and valuable servant for the Dean. + +There are riders whose methods demand that they throw every unbroken +horse given them to handle, and who gentle an animal by beating it about +the head with loaded quirts, ripping its flanks open with sharp spurs +and tearing its mouth with torturing bits and ropes. These turn over to +their employers as their finished product horses that are broken, +indeed--but broken only in spirit, with no heart or courage left to +them, with dispositions ruined, and often with physical injuries from +which they never recover. But riders of such methods have no place among +the men employed by owners of the Dean's type. On the Cross-Triangle, +and indeed on all ranches where conservative business principles are in +force, the horses are handled with all the care and gentleness that the +work and the individuality of the animal will permit. + +After a little Phil's hand gently touched the black's head. Instantly +the struggle was resumed. The rider dodged a vicious blow from the +strong fore hoofs and with a good natured laugh softly chided the +desperate animal. And so, presently, the kind hand was again stretched +forth; and then a broad band of leather was deftly slipped over the +black's frightened eyes. Another thicker and softer rope was knotted so +that it could not slip about the now sweating neck, and fashioned into a +hackamore or halter about the animal's nose. Then the riata was loosed. +Working deftly, silently, gently--ever wary of those dangerous +hoofs--Phil next placed blanket and saddle on the trembling black and +drew the cinch tight. Then the gate leading from the corral to the open +range was swung back. Easily, but quickly and surely, the rider swung to +his seat. He paused a moment to be sure that all was right, and then +leaning forward he reached over and raised the leather blindfold. For an +instant the wild, unbroken horse stood still, then reared until it +seemed he must fall, and then, as his forefeet touched the ground again, +the spurs went home, and with a mighty leap forward the frenzied animal +dashed, bucking, plunging, pitching, through the gate and away toward +the open country, followed by Curly and Bob, with Little Billy spurring +old Sheep, in hot pursuit. + +For a little the Dean lingered in the suddenly emptied corral. Stepping +up on the end of the long watering trough, close to the dividing fence, +he studied with knowing eye the animals on the other side. Then +leisurely he made his way out of the corral, visited the windmill pump, +looked in on Stella from the kitchen porch, and then saddled Browny, his +own particular horse that grazed always about the place at privileged +ease, and rode off somewhere on some business of his own. + +When the black horse had spent his strength in a vain attempt to rid +himself of the dreadful burden that had attached itself so securely to +his back, he was herded back to the corral, where the burden set him +free. Dripping with sweat, trembling in every limb and muscle, +wild-eyed, with distended nostrils and heaving flanks, the black crowded +in among his mates again, his first lesson over--his years of ease and +freedom past forever. + +"And which will it be this time?" came Curly's question. + +"I'll have that buckskin this trip," answered Phil. + +And again that swirling cloud of dust raised by those thundering hoofs +drifted over the stockade enclosure, and out of the mad confusion the +buckskin dashed wildly through the gate to be initiated into his new +life. + +And so, hour after hour, the work went on, as horse after horse at +Phil's word was cut out of the band and ridden; and every horse, +according to disposition and temper and strength, was different. While +his helpers did their part the rider caught a few moments rest. Always +he was good natured, soft spoken and gentle. When a frightened animal, +not understanding, tried to kill him, he accepted it as evidence of a +commendable spirit, and, with that sunny, boyish smile, informed his +pupil kindly that he was a good horse and must not make a fool of +himself. + +In so many ways, as the Dean had said at breakfast that morning, horses +are just like men. + +It was mid-afternoon when the master of the Cross-Triangle again +strolled leisurely out to the corrals. Phil and his helpers, including +Little Billy, were just disappearing over the rise of ground beyond the +gate on the farther side of the enclosure as the Dean reached the gate +that opens toward the barn and house. He went on through the corral, +and slowly, as one having nothing else to do, climbed the little knoll +from which he could watch the riders in the distance. When the horsemen +had disappeared among the scattered cedars on the ridge, a mile or so to +the west, the Dean still stood looking in that direction. But the owner +of the Cross-Triangle was not watching for the return of his men. He was +not even thinking of them. He was looking beyond the cedar ridge to +where, several miles away, a long, mesa-topped mountain showed black +against the blue of the more distant hills. The edge of this high +table-land broke abruptly in a long series of vertical cliffs, the +formation known to Arizonians as rim rocks. The deep shadows of the +towering black wall of cliffs and the gloom of the pines and cedars that +hid the foot of the mountain gave the place a sinister and threatening +appearance. + +As he looked, the Dean's kindly face grew somber and stern; his blue +eyes were for the moment cold and accusing; under his grizzled mustache +his mouth, usually so ready to smile or laugh, was set in lines of +uncompromising firmness. In these quiet and well-earned restful years of +the Dean's life the Tailholt Mountain outfit was the only disturbing +element. But the Dean did not permit himself to be long annoyed by the +thoughts provoked by Tailholt Mountain. Philosophically he turned his +broad back to the intruding scene, and went back to the corral, and to +the more pleasing occupation of looking at the horses. + +If the Dean had not so abruptly turned his back upon the landscape, he +would have noticed the figure of a man moving slowly along the road +that skirted the valley meadow leading from Simmons to the +Cross-Triangle Ranch. + +Presently the riders returned, and Phil, when he had removed saddle, +blanket and hackamore from his pupil, seated himself on the edge of the +watering trough beside the Dean. + +"I see you ain't tackled the big bay yet," remarked the older man. + +"Thought if I'd let him look on for a while, he might figure it out that +he'd better be good and not get himself hurt," smiled Phil. "He's sure +some horse," he added admiringly. Then to his helpers: "I'll take that +black with the white forefoot this time, Curly." + +Just as the fresh horse dashed into the larger corral a man on foot +appeared, coming over the rise of ground to the west; and by the time +that Curly's loop was over the black's head the man stood at the gate. +One glance told Phil that it was the stranger whom he had met on the +Divide. + +The man seemed to understand that it was no time for greetings and, +without offering to enter the enclosure, climbed to the top of the big +gate, where he sat, with one leg over the topmost bar, an interested +spectator. + +The maneuvers of the black brought Phil to that side of the corral, and, +as he coolly dodged the fighting horse, he glanced up with his boyish +smile and a quick nod of welcome to the man perched above him. The +stranger smiled in return, but did not speak. He must have thought, +though, that this cowboy appeared quite different from the picturesque +rider he had seen at the celebration and on the summit of the Divide. +_That_ Phil Acton had been--as the cowboy himself would have said--"all +togged out in his glad rags." This man wore chaps that were old and +patched from hard service; his shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, was the +color of the corral dirt, and a generous tear revealed one muscular +shoulder; his hat was greasy and battered; his face grimed and streaked +with dust and sweat, but his sunny, boyish smile would have identified +Phil in any garb. + +When the rider was ready to mount, and Bob went to open the gate, the +stranger climbed down and drew a little aside. And when Phil, passing +where he stood, looked laughingly down at him from the back of the +bucking, plunging horse, he made as if to applaud, but checked himself +and went quickly to the top of the knoll to watch the riders until they +disappeared over the ridge. + +"Howdy! Fine weather we're havin'." It was the Dean's hearty voice. He +had gone forward courteously to greet the stranger while the latter was +watching the riders. + +The man turned impulsively, his face lighted with enthusiasm. "By Jove!" +he exclaimed, "but that man can ride!" + +"Yes, Phil does pretty well," returned the Dean indifferently. "Won the +championship at Prescott the other day." Then, more heartily: "He's a +mighty good boy, too--take him any way you like." + +As he spoke the cattleman looked the stranger over critically, much as +he would have looked at a steer or horse, noting the long limbs, the +well-made body, the strong face and clear, dark eyes. The man's dress +told the Dean simply that the stranger was from the city. His bearing +commanded the older man's respect. The stranger's next statement, as he +looked thoughtfully over the wide Land of valley and hill and mesa and +mountain, convinced the Dean that he was a man of judgment. + +"Arizona is a wonderful country, sir--wonderful!" + +"Finest in the world, sir," agreed the Dean promptly. "There just +naturally can't be any better. We've got the climate; we've got the +land; and we've got the men." + +The stranger looked at the Dean quickly when he said "men." It was worth +much to hear the Dean speak that word. + +"Indeed you have," he returned heartily. "I never saw such men." + +"Of course you haven't," said the Dean. "I tell you, sir, they just +don't make 'em outside of Arizona. It takes a country like this to +produce real men. A man's got to be a man out here. Of course, though," +he admitted kindly, "we don't know much except to ride, an' throw a +rope, an' shoot, mebby, once in a while." + +The riders were returning and the Dean and the stranger walked back down +the little hill to the corral. + +"You have a fine ranch here, Mr. Baldwin," again observed the stranger. + +The Dean glanced at him sharply. Many men had tried to buy the +Cross-Triangle. This man certainly appeared prosperous even though he +was walking. But there was no accounting for the queer things that city +men would do. + +"It does pretty well," the cattleman admitted. "I manage to make a +livin'." + +The other smiled as though slightly embarrassed. Then: "Do you need any +help?" + +"Help!" The Dean looked at him amazed. + +"I mean--I would like a position--to work for you, you know." + +The Dean was speechless. Again he surveyed the stranger with his +measuring, critical look. "You've never done any work," he said gently. + +The man stood very straight before him and spoke almost defiantly. "No, +I haven't, but is that any reason why I should not?" + +The Dean's eyes twinkled, as they have a way of doing when you say +something that he likes. "I'd say it's a better reason why you should," +he returned quietly. + +Then he said to Phil, who, having dismissed his four-footed pupil, was +coming toward them: + +"Phil, this man wants a job. Think we can use him?" + +The young man looked at the stranger with unfeigned surprise and with a +hint of amusement, but gave no sign that he had ever seen him before. +The same natural delicacy of feeling that had prevented the cowboy from +discussing the man upon whose privacy he felt he had intruded that +evening of their meeting on the Divide led him now to ignore the +incident--a consideration which could not but command the strange man's +respect, and for which he looked his gratitude. + +There was something about the stranger, too, that to Phil seemed +different. This tall, well-built fellow who stood before them so +self-possessed, and ready for anything, was not altogether like the +uncertain, embarrassed, half-frightened and troubled gentleman at whom +Phil had first laughed with thinly veiled contempt, and then had pitied. +It was as though the man who sat that night alone on the Divide had, out +of the very bitterness of his experience, called forth from within +himself a strength of which, until then, he had been only dimly +conscious. There was now, in his face and bearing, courage and decision +and purpose, and with it all a glint of that same humor that had made +him so bitterly mock himself. The Dean's philosophy touching the +possibilities of the man who laughs when he is hurt seemed in this +stranger about to be justified. Phil felt oddly, too, that the man was +in a way experimenting with himself--testing himself as it were--and +being altogether a normal human, the cowboy felt strongly inclined to +help the experimenter. In this spirit he answered the Dean, while +looking mischievously at the stranger. + +"We can use him if he can ride." + +The stranger smiled understandingly. "I don't see why I couldn't," he +returned in that droll tone. "I seem to have the legs." He looked down +at his long lower limbs reflectively, as though quaintly considering +them quite apart from himself. + +Phil laughed. + +"Huh," said the Dean, slightly mystified at the apparent understanding +between the young men. Then to the stranger: "What do you want to work +for? You don't look as though you needed to. A sort of vacation, heh?" + +There was spirit in the man's answer. "I want to work for the reason +that all men want work. If you do not employ me, I must try somewhere +else." + +"Come from Prescott to Simmons on the stage, did you?" + +"No, sir, I walked." + +"Walked! Huh! Tried anywhere else for a job?" + +"No, sir." + +"Who sent you out here?" + +The stranger smiled. "I saw Mr. Acton ride in the contest. I learned +that he was foreman of the Cross-Triangle Ranch. I thought I would +rather work where he worked, if I could." + +The Dean looked at Phil. Phil looked at the Dean. Together they looked +at the stranger. The two cowboys who were sitting on their horses +near-by grinned at each other. + +"And what is your name, sir?" the Dean asked courteously. + +For the first time the man hesitated and seemed embarrassed. He looked +uneasily about with a helpless inquiring glance, as though appealing for +some suggestion. + +"Oh, never mind your name, if you have forgotten it," said the Dean +dryly. + +The stranger's roaming eyes fell upon Phil's old chaps, that in every +wrinkle and scar and rip and tear gave such eloquent testimony as to the +wearer's life, and that curious, self-mocking smile touched his lips. +Then, throwing up his head and looking the Dean straight in the eye, he +said boldly, but with that note of droll humor in his voice, "My name is +Patches, sir, Honorable Patches." + +The Dean's eyes twinkled, but his face was grave. Phil's face flushed; +he had not failed to identify the source of the stranger's inspiration. +But before either the Dean or Phil could speak a shout of laughter came +from Curly Elson, and the stranger had turned to face the cowboy. + +"Something seems to amuse you," he said quietly to the man on the horse; +and at the tone of his voice Phil and the Dean exchanged significant +glances. + +The grinning cowboy looked down at the stranger in evident contempt. +"Patches," he drawled. "Honorable Patches! That's a hell of a name, now, +ain't it?" + +The man went two long steps toward the mocking rider, and spoke quietly, +but with unmistakable meaning. + +"I'll endeavor to make it all of that for you, if you will get off your +horse." + +The grinning cowboy, with a wink at his companion, dismounted +cheerfully. Curly Elson was held to be the best man with his hands in +Yavapai County. He could not refuse so tempting an opportunity to add to +his well-earned reputation. + +Five minutes later Curly lifted himself on one elbow in the corral dust, +and looked up with respectful admiration to the quiet man who stood +waiting for him to rise. Curly's lip was bleeding generously; the side +of his face seemed to have slipped out of place, and his left eye was +closing surely and rapidly. + +"Get up," said the tall man calmly. "There is more where that came from, +if you want it." + +The cowboy grinned painfully. "I ain't hankerin' after any more," he +mumbled, feeling his face tenderly. + +"It said that my name was Patches," suggested the stranger. + +"Sure, Mr. Patches, I reckon nobody'll question that." + +"Honorable Patches," again prompted the stranger. + +"Yes, sir. You bet; Honorable Patches," agreed Curly with emphasis. +Then, as he painfully regained his feet, he held out his hand with as +nearly a smile as his battered features would permit. "Do you mind +shaking on it, Mr. Honorable Patches? Just to show that there's no hard +feelin's?" + +Patches responded instantly with a manner that won Curly's heart. +"Good!" he said. "I knew you would do that when you understood, or I +wouldn't have bothered to show you my credentials." + +"My mistake," returned Curly. "It's them there credentials of yourn, not +your name, that's hell." + +He gingerly mounted his horse again, and Patches turned back to the Dean +as though apologizing for the interruption. + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but--about work?" + +The Dean never told anyone just what his thoughts were at that +particular moment; probably because they were so many and so +contradictory and confusing. Whether from this uncertainty of mind; from +a habit of depending upon his young foreman, or because of that +something, which Phil and the stranger seemed to have in common, he +shifted the whole matter by saying, "It's up to Phil here. He's foreman +of the Cross-Triangle. If he wants to hire you, it's all right with me." + +At this the two young men faced each other; and on the face of each was +a half questioning, half challenging smile. The stranger seemed to say, +"I know I am at your mercy; I don't expect you to believe in me after +our meeting on the Divide, but I dare you to put me to the test." + +And Phil, if he had spoken, might have said, "I felt when I met you +first that there was a man around somewhere. I know you are curious to +see what you would do if put to the test. I am curious, too. I'll give +you a chance." Aloud he reminded the stranger pointedly, "I said we +might use you if you could ride." + +Patches smiled his self-mocking smile, evidently appreciating his +predicament. "And I said," he retorted, "that I didn't see why I +couldn't." + +Phil turned to his grinning but respectful helpers. "Bring out that bay +with the blazed face." + +"Great Snakes!" ejaculated Curly to Bob, as they reached the gate +leading to the adjoining corral. "His name is Patches, all right, but +he'll be pieces when that bay devil gets through with him, if he can't +ride. Do you reckon he can?" + +"Dunno," returned Bob, as he unlatched the gate without dismounting. "I +thought he couldn't fight." + +"So did I," returned Curly, grimly nursing his battered face. "You cut +out the horse; I can't more'n half see." + +It was no trouble to cut out the bay. The big horse seemed to understand +that his time had come. All day he had seen his mates go forth to their +testing, had watched them as they fought with all their strength the +skill and endurance of that smiling, boy-faced man, and then had seen +them as they returned, sweating, trembling, conquered and subdued. As +Bob rode toward him, he stood for one defiant moment as motionless as a +horse of bronze; then, with a suddenness that gave Curly at the gate +barely time to dodge his rush, he leaped forward into the larger arena. + +Phil was watching the stranger as the big horse came through the gate. +The man did not move, but his eyes were glowing darkly, his face was +flushed, and he was smiling to himself mockingly--as though amused at +the thought of what was about to happen to him. The Dean also was +watching Patches, and again the young foreman and his employer exchanged +significant glances as Phil turned and went quickly to Little Billy. +Lifting the lad from his saddle and seating him on the fence above the +long watering trough, he said, "There's a grandstand seat for you, +pardner; don't get down unless you have to, and then get down outside. +See?" + +At that moment yells of warning, with a "Look out, Phil!" came from +Curly, Bob and the Dean. + +A quick look over his shoulder, and Phil saw the big horse with ears +wickedly flat, eyes gleaming, and teeth bared, making straight in his +direction. The animal had apparently singled him out as the author of +his misfortunes, and proposed to dispose of his arch-enemy at the very +outset of the battle. There was only one sane thing to do, and Phil did +it. A vigorous, scrambling leap placed him beside Little Billy on the +top of the fence above the watering trough. + +"Good thing I reserved a seat in your grandstand for myself, wasn't it, +pardner?" he smiled down at the boy by his side. + +Then Bob's riata fell true, and as the powerful horse plunged and fought +that strangling noose Phil came leisurely down from the fence. + +"Where was you goin', Phil?" chuckled the Dean. + +"You sure warn't losin' any time," laughed Curly. + +And Bob, without taking his eyes from the vicious animal at the end of +his taut riata, and working skillfully with his trained cow-horse to +foil every wicked plunge and wild leap, grinned with appreciation, as he +added, "I'll bet four bits you can't do it again, Phil, without a +runnin' start." + +"I just thought I'd keep Little Billy company for a spell," smiled Phil. +"He looked so sort of lonesome up there." + +The stranger, at first amazed that they could turn into jest an incident +which might so easily have been a tragedy, suddenly laughed aloud--a +joyous, ringing laugh that made Phil look at him sharply. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Acton," said Patches meekly, but with that droll +voice which brought a glint of laughter into the foreman's eyes and +called forth another chuckle from the Dean. + +"You can take my saddle," said Phil pointedly. "It's over there at the +end of the watering trough. You'll find the stirrups about right, I +reckon--I ride with them rather long." + +For a moment the stranger looked him straight in the eyes, then without +a word started for the saddle. He was half way to the end of the +watering trough when Phil overtook him. + +"I believe I'd rather saddle him myself," the cowboy explained quietly, +with his sunny smile. "You see, I've got to teach these horses some cow +sense before the fall rodeo, and I'm rather particular about the way +they're handled at the start." + +"Exactly," returned Patches, "I don't blame you. That fellow seems +rather to demand careful treatment, doesn't he?" + +Phil laughed. "Oh, you don't need to be too particular about his +feelings once you're up in the middle of him," he retorted. + +The big bay, instead of acquiring sense from his observations, as Phil +had expressed to the Dean a hope that he would, seemed to have gained +courage and determination. Phil's approach was the signal for a mad +plunge in the young man's direction, which was checked by the skill and +weight of Bob's trained cow-horse on the rope. Several times Phil went +toward the bay, and every time his advance was met by one of those +vicious rushes. Then Phil mounted Curly's horse, and from his hand the +loop of another riata fell over the bay's head. Shortening his rope by +coiling it in his rein hand, he maneuvered the trained horse closer and +closer to his struggling captive, until, with Bob's co-operation on the +other side of the fighting animal, he could with safety fix the leather +blindfold over those wicked eyes. + +When at last hackamore and saddle were in place, and the bay stood +trembling and sweating, Phil wiped the perspiration from his own +forehead and turned to the stranger. + +"Your horse is ready, sir." + +The man's face was perhaps a shade whiter than its usual color, but his +eyes were glowing, and there was a grim set look about his smiling lips +that made the hearts of those men go out to him. He seemed to realize so +that the joke was on himself, and with it all exhibited such reckless +indifference to consequences. Without an instant's hesitation he started +toward the horse. + +"Great Snakes!" muttered Curly to Bob, "talk about nerve!" + +The Dean started forward. "Wait a minute, Mr. Patches," he said. + +The stranger faced him. + +"Can you ride that horse?" asked the Dean, pointedly. + +"I'm going to," returned Patches. "But," he added with his droll humor, +"I can't say how far." + +"Don't you know that he'll kill you if he can?" questioned the Dean +curiously, while his eyes twinkled approval. + +"He does seem to have some such notion," admitted Patches. + +"You better let him alone," said the Dean. "You don't need to kill +yourself to get a job with this outfit." + +"That's very kind of you, sir," returned the stranger gratefully. "I'm +rather glad you said that. But I'm going to ride him just the same." + +They looked at him in amazement, for it was clear to them now that the +man really could not ride. + +The Dean spoke kindly. "Why?" + +"Because," said Patches slowly, "I am curious to see what I will do +under such circumstances, and if I don't try the experiment now I'll +never know whether I have the nerve to do it or not." As he finished he +turned and walked deliberately toward the horse. + +Phil ran to Curly's side, and the cowboy at his foreman's gesture leaped +from his saddle. The young man mounted his helper's horse, and with a +quick movement caught the riata from the saddle horn and flipped open a +ready loop. + +The stranger was close to the bay's off, or right, side. + +"The other side, Patches," called Phil genially. "You want to start in +right, you know." + +Not a man laughed--except the stranger. + +"Thanks," he said, and came around to the proper side. + +"Take your time," called Phil again. "Stand by his shoulder and watch +his heels. Take the stirrup with your right hand and turn it to catch +your foot. Stay back by his shoulder until you are ready to swing up. +Take your time." + +"I won't be long," returned Patches, as he awkwardly gained his seat in +the saddle. + +Phil moved his horse nearer the center of the corral, and shook out his +loop a little. + +"When you're ready, lean over and pull up the blindfold," he called. + +The man on the horse did not hesitate. With every angry nerve and muscle +strained to the utmost, the powerful bay leaped into the air, coming +down with legs stiff and head between his knees. For an instant the man +miraculously kept his place. With another vicious plunge and a +cork-screw twist the maddened brute went up again, and this time the man +was flung from the saddle as from a gigantic catapult, to fall upon his +shoulders and back in the corral dust, where he lay still. The horse, +rid of his enemy, leaped again; then with catlike quickness and devilish +cunning whirled, and with wicked teeth bared and vicious, blazing eyes, +rushed for the helpless man on the ground. + +With a yell Bob spurred to put himself between the bay and his victim, +but had there been time the move would have been useless, for no horse +could have withstood that mad charge. The vicious brute was within a +bound of his victim, and had reared to crush him with the weight of +heavy hoofs, when a rawhide rope tightened about those uplifted forefeet +and the bay himself crashed to earth. Leaving the cow-horse to hold the +riata tight, Phil sprang from his saddle and ran to the fallen man. The +Dean came with water in his felt hat from the trough, and presently the +stranger opened his eyes. For a moment he lay looking up into their +faces as though wondering where he was, and how he happened there. + +"Are you hurt bad?" asked the Dean. + +That brought him to his senses, and he got to his feet somewhat +unsteadily, and began brushing the dust from his clothes. Then he looked +curiously toward the horse that Curly was holding down by the simple +means of sitting on the animal's head. "I certainly thought my legs were +long enough to reach around him," he said reflectively. "How in the +world did he manage it? I seemed to be falling for a week." + +Phil yelled and the Dean laughed until the tears ran down his red +cheeks, while Bob and Curly went wild. + +Patches went to the horse, and gravely walked around him. Then, "Let him +up," he said to Curly. + +The cowboy looked at Phil, who nodded. + +As the bay regained his feet, Patches started toward him. + +"Here," said the Dean peremptorily. "You come away from there." + +"I'm going to see if he can do it again," declared Patches grimly. + +"Not to-day, you ain't," returned the Dean. "You're workin' for me now, +an' you're too good a man to be killed tryin' any more crazy +experiments." + +At the Dean's words the look of gratitude in the man's eyes was almost +pathetic. + +"I wonder if I am," he said, so low that only the Dean and Phil heard. + +"If you are what?" asked the Dean, puzzled by his manner. + +"Worth anything--as a man--you know," came the strange reply. + +The Dean chuckled. "You'll be all right when you get your growth. Come +on over here now, out of the way, while Phil takes some of the +cussedness out of that fool horse." + +Together they watched Phil ride the bay and return him to his mates a +very tired and a much wiser pupil. Then, while Patches remained to watch +further operations in the corral, the Dean went to the house to tell +Stella all about it. + +"And what do you think he really is?" she asked, as the last of a long +list of questions and comments. + +The Dean shook his head. "There's no tellin'. A man like that is liable +to be anything." Then he added, with his usual philosophy: "He acts, +though, like a genuine thoroughbred that's been badly mishandled an' has +just found it out." + +When the day's work was finished and supper was over Little Billy found +Patches where he stood looking across the valley toward Granite Mountain +that loomed so boldly against the soft light of the evening sky. The man +greeted the boy awkwardly, as though unaccustomed to children. But +Little Billy, very much at ease, signified his readiness to help the +stranger to an intimate acquaintance with the world of which he knew so +much more than this big man. + +He began with no waste of time on mere preliminaries. + +"See that mountain over there? That's Granite Mountain. There's wild +horses live around there, an' sometimes we catch 'em. Bet you don't know +that Phil's name is 'Wild Horse Phil'." + +Patches smiled. "That's a good name for him, isn't it?" + +"You bet." He turned and pointed eagerly to the west. "There's another +mountain over there I bet you don't know the name of." + +"Which one do you mean? I see several." + +"That long, black lookin' one. Do you know about it?" + +"I'm really afraid that I don't." + +"Well, I'll tell you," said Billy, proud of his superior knowledge. +"That there's Tailholt Mountain." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes, and Nick Cambert and Yavapai Joe lives over there. Do you know +about them?" + +The tall man shook his head. "No, I don't believe that I do." + +Little Billy lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper. "Well, I'll tell +you. Only you mus'n't ever say anything 'bout it out loud. Nick and +Yavapai is cattle thieves. They been a-brandin' our calves, an' Phil, +he's goin' to catch 'em at it some day, an' then they'll wish they +hadn't. Phil, he's my pardner, you know." + +"And a fine pardner, too, I'll bet," returned the stranger, as if not +wishing to acquire further information about the men of Tailholt +Mountain. + +"You bet he is," came the instant response. "Only Jim Reid, he don't +like him very well." + +"That's too bad, isn't it?" + +"Yes. You see, Jim Reid is Kitty's daddy. They live over there." He +pointed across the meadow to where, a mile away, a light twinkled in the +window of the Pot-Hook-S ranch house. "Kitty Reid's a mighty nice girl, +I tell you, but Jim, he says that there needn't no cow-puncher come +around tryin' to get her, 'cause she's been away to school, you know, +an' I think Phil--" + +"Whoa! Hold on a minute, sonny," interrupted Patches hastily. + +"What's the matter?" questioned Little Billy. + +"Why, it strikes me that a boy with a pardner like 'Wild Horse Phil' +ought to be mighty careful about how he talked over that pardner's +private affairs with a stranger. Don't you think so?" + +"Mebby so," agreed Billy. "But you see, I know that Phil wants Kitty +'cause--" + +"Sh! What in the world is that?" whispered Patches in great fear, +catching his small companion by the arm. + +"That! Don't you know an owl when you hear one? Gee! but you're a +tenderfoot, ain't you?" Catching sight of the Dean who was coming toward +them, he shouted gleefully. "Uncle Will, Mr. Patches is scared of an +owl. What do you know about that; Patches is scared of an owl!" + +"Your Aunt Stella wants you," laughed the Dean. + +And Billy ran off to the house to share his joke on the tenderfoot with +his Aunt Stella and his "pardner," Phil. + +"I've got to go to town to-morrow," said the Dean. "I expect you better +go along and get your trunk, or whatever you have and some sort of an +outfit. You can't work in them clothes." + +Patches answered hesitatingly. "Why, I think I can get along all right, +Mr. Baldwin." + +"But you'll want your stuff--your trunk or grip--or whatever you've +got," returned the Dean. + +"But I have nothing in Prescott," said the stranger slowly. + +"You haven't? Well, you'll need an outfit anyway," persisted the +cattleman. + +"Really, I think I can get along for a while," Patches returned +diffidently. + +The Dean considered for a little; then he said with straightforward +bluntness, but not at all unkindly, "Look here, young man, you ain't +afraid to go to Prescott, are you?" + +The other laughed. "Not at all, sir. It's not that. I suppose I must +tell you now, though. All the clothes I have are on my back, and I +haven't a cent in the world with which to buy an outfit, as you call +it." + +The Dean chuckled. "So that's it? I thought mebby you was dodgin' the +sheriff. If it's just plain broke that's the matter, why you'll go to +town with me in the mornin', an' we'll get what you need. I'll hold it +out of your wages until it's paid." As though the matter were settled, +he turned back toward the house, adding, "Phil will show you where +you're to sleep." + +When the foreman had shown the new man to his room, the cowboy asked +casually, "Found the goat ranch, all right, night before last, did you?" + +The other hesitated; then he said gravely, "I didn't look for it, Mr. +Acton." + +"You didn't look for it?" + +"No, sir." + +"Do you mean to say that you spent the night up there on the Divide +without blankets or anything?" + +"Yes, sir, I did." + +"And where did you stop last night?" + +"At Simmons." + +"Walked, I suppose?" + +The stranger smiled. "Yes." + +"But, look here," said the puzzled cowboy, "I don't mean to be asking +questions about what is none of my business, but I can't figure it out. +If you were coming out here to get a job on the Cross-Triangle, why +didn't you go to Mr. Baldwin in town? Anybody could have pointed him out +to you. Or, why didn't you say something to me, when we were talking +back there on the Divide?" + +"Why, you see," explained the other lamely, "I didn't exactly want to +work on the Cross-Triangle, or anywhere." + +"But you told Uncle Will that you wanted to work here, and you were on +your way when I met you." + +"Yes, I know, but you see--oh, hang it all, Mr. Acton, haven't you ever +wanted to do something that you didn't want to do? Haven't you ever been +caught in a corner that you were simply forced to get out of when you +didn't like the only way that would get you out? I don't mean anything +criminal," he added, with a short laugh. + +"Yes, I have," returned the other seriously, "and if you don't mind +there's no handle to my name. Around here I'm just plain Phil, Mr. +Patches." + +"Thanks. Neither does Patches need decorating." + +"And now, one more," said Phil, with his winning smile. "Why in the +name of all the obstinate fools that roam at large did you walk out here +when you must have had plenty of chances to ride?" + +"Well, you see," said Patches slowly, "I fear I can't explain, but it +was just a part of my job." + +"Your job! But you didn't have any job until this afternoon." + +"Oh, yes, I did. I had the biggest kind of a job. You see, that's what I +was doing on the Divide all night; trying to find some other way to do +it." + +"And do you mind telling me what that job is?" asked Phil curiously. + +Patches laughed as though at himself. "I don't know that I can, +exactly," he said. "I think, perhaps, it's just to ride that big bay +horse out there." + +Phil laughed aloud--a hearty laugh of good-fellowship. "You'll do that +all right." + +"Do you think so, really," asked Patches, eagerly. + +"Sure; I know it." + +"I wish I could be sure," returned the strange man doubtfully--and the +cowboy, wondering, saw that wistful look in his eyes. + +"That big devil is a man's horse, all right," mused Phil. + +"Why, of course--and that's just it--don't you see?" cried the other +impulsively. Then, as if he regretted his words, he asked quickly, "Do +you name your horses?" + +"Sure," answered the cowboy; "we generally find something to call them." + +"And have you named the big bay yet?" + +Phil laughed. "I named him yesterday, when he broke away as we were +bringing the bunch in, and I had to rope him to get him back." + +"And what did you name him?" + +"Stranger." + +"Stranger! And why Stranger?" + +"Oh, I don't know. Just one of my fool notions," returned Phil. +"Good-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A BIT OF THE PAST. + + +The next morning Mr. Baldwin and Patches set out for town. + +"I suppose," said the Dean, and a slightly curious tone colored the +remark, "that mebby you've been used to automobiles. Buck and Prince +here, an' this old buckboard will seem sort of slow to you." + +Patches was stepping into the rig as the Dean spoke. As the young man +took his seat by the cattleman's side, the Dean nodded to Phil who was +holding the team. At the signal Phil released the horses' heads and +stepped aside, whereupon Buck and Prince, of one mind, looked back over +their shoulders, made a few playful attempts to twist themselves out of +the harness, lunged forward their length, stood straight up on their +hind feet, then sprang away as if they were fully determined to land +that buckboard in Prescott within the next fifteen minutes. + +"Did you say slow?" questioned Patches, as he clung to his seat. + +The Dean chuckled and favored his new man with a twinkling glance of +approval. + +A few seconds later, on the other side of the sandy wash, the Dean +skillfully checked their headlong career, with a narrow margin of safety +between the team and the gate. + +"I reckon we'll get through with less fuss if you'll open it," he said +to Patches. Then to Buck and Prince: "Whoa! you blamed fools. Can't you +stand a minute?" + +"Stella's been devilin' me to get a machine ever since Jim Reid got +his," he continued, while the horses were repeating their preliminary +contortions, and Patches was regaining his seat. "But I told her I'd be +scared to death to ride in the fool contraption." + +At this Buck and Prince, in a wild riot of animal strength and spirit, +leaped a slight depression in the road with such vigor that the front +wheels of the buckboard left the ground. Patches glanced sidewise at his +employer, with a smile of delighted appreciation, but said nothing. + +The Dean liked him for that. The Dean always insists that the hardest +man in the world to talk to is the one who always has something to say +for himself. + +"Why," he continued, with a burst of honest feeling, "if I was ever to +bring one of them things home to the Cross-Triangle, I'd be ashamed to +look a horse or steer in the face." + +They dashed through a patch of wild sunflowers that in the bottom lands +grow thick and rank; whirled past the tumble-down corner of an old fence +that enclosed a long neglected garden; and dashed recklessly through a +deserted and weed-grown yard. On one side of the road was the ancient +barn and stable, with sagging, weather-beaten roof, leaning walls and +battered doors that hung dejectedly on their rusty and broken hinges. +The corral stockade was breached in many places by the years that had +rotted the posts. The old-time windlass pump that, operated by a blind +burro, once lifted water for the long vanished herds, was a pathetic old +wreck, incapable now of offering drink to a thirsty sparrow. On their +other hand, beneath the wide branches of giant sycamores and walnuts, +and backed by a tangled orchard wilderness, stood an old house, empty +and neglected, as if in the shadowy gloom of the untrimmed trees it +awaited, lonely and forlorn, the kindly hand of oblivion. + +"This is the old Acton homestead," said the Dean quietly, as one might +speak beside an ancient grave. + +Then as they were driving through the narrow lane that crosses the great +meadow, he indicated with a nod of his head group of buildings on the +other side of the green fields, and something less than a mile to the +south. + +"That's Jim Reid's place. His iron is the Pot-Hook-S. Jim's stock runs +on the old Acton range, but the homestead belongs to Phil yet. Jim +Reid's a fine man." The Dean spoke stoutly, almost as though he were +making the assertion to convince himself. "Yes, sir, Jim's all right. +Good neighbor; good cowman; square as they make 'em. Some folks seem to +think he's a mite over-bearin' an' rough-spoken sometimes, and he's kind +of quick at suspicionin' everybody; but Jim and me have always got along +the best kind." + +Again the Dean was silent, as though he had forgotten the man beside him +in his occupation with thoughts that he could not share. + +When they had crossed the valley meadows and, climbing the hill on the +other side, could see the road for several miles ahead, the Dean pointed +to a black object on the next ridge. + +"There's Jim's automobile now. They're headin' for Prescott, too. +Kitty's drivin', I reckon. I tell Stella that that machine and Kitty's +learnin' to run the thing is about all the returns that Jim can show for +the money he's spent in educatin' her. I don't mean," he added, with a +quick look at Patches, as though he feared to be misunderstood, "that +Kitty's one of them good-for-nothin' butterfly girls. She ain't that by +a good deal. Why, she was raised right here in this neighborhood, an' we +love her the same as if she was our own. She can cook a meal or make a +dress 'bout as well as her mother, an' does it, too; an' she can ride a +horse or throw a rope better'n some punchers I've seen, but--" The Dean +stopped, seemingly for want of words to express exactly his thought. + +"It seems to me," offered Patches abstractedly, "that education, as we +call it, is a benefit only when it adds to one's life. If schooling or +culture, or whatever you choose to term it, is permitted to rob one of +the fundamental and essential elements of life, it is most certainly an +evil." + +"That's the idea," exclaimed the Dean, with frank admiration for his +companion's ability to say that which he himself thought. "You say it +like a book. But that's it. It ain't the learnin' an' all the stuff that +Kitty got while she was at school that's worryin' us. It's what +she's likely to lose through gettin' 'em. This here modern, +down-to-the-minute, higher livin', loftier sphere, intellectual +supremacy idea is all right if folks'll just keep their feet on the +ground. + +"You take Stella an' me now. I know we're old fashioned an' slow an' all +that, an' we've seen a lot of hardships since we was married over in +Skull Valley where she was born an' raised. She was just a girl then, +an' I was only a kid, punchin' steers for a livin'. I suppose we've seen +about as hard times as anybody. At least that's what they would be +called now. But, hell, _we_ didn't think nothin' of it then; we was +happy, sir, and we've been happy for over forty year. I tell you, sir, +we've lived--just lived every minute, and that's a blamed sight more +than a lot of these higher-cultured, top-lofty, half-dead couples that +marry and separate, and separate and marry again now-a-days can say. + +"No, sir, 'tain't what a man gets that makes him rich; it's what he +keeps. And these folks that are swoppin' the old-fashioned sort of love +that builds homes and raises families and lets man and wife work +together, an' meet trouble together, an' be happy together, an' grow old +bein' happy together--if they're swoppin' all that for these here new, +down-to-date ideas of such things, they're makin' a damned poor bargain, +accordin' to my way of thinkin'. There is such a thing, sir, as +educatin' a man or woman plumb out of reach of happiness. + +"Look at our Phil," the Dean continued, for the man beside him was a +wonderful listener. "There just naturally couldn't be a better all round +man than Phil Acton. He's healthy; don't know what it is to have an +hour's sickness; strong as a young bull; clean, honest, square, no bad +habits, a fine worker, an' a fine thinker, too--even if he ain't had +much schoolin', he's read a lot. Take him any way you like--just as a +man, I mean--an' that's the way you got to take 'em--there ain't a +better man that Phil livin'. Yet a lot of these folks would say he's +nothin' but a cow-puncher. As for that, Jim Reid ain't much more than a +cow-puncher himself. I tell you, I've seen cow-punchers that was mighty +good men, an' I've seen graduates from them there universities that was +plumb good for nothin'--with no more real man about 'em than there is +about one of these here wax dummies that they hang clothes on in the +store windows. What any self-respectin' woman can see in one of them +that would make her want to marry him is more than I've ever been able +to figger out." + +If the Dean had not been so engrossed in his own thoughts, he would have +wondered at the strange effect of his words upon his companion. The +young man's face flushed scarlet, then paled as though with sudden +illness, and he looked sidewise at the older man with an expression of +shame and humiliation, while his eyes, wistful and pleading, were filled +with pain. Honorable Patches who had won the admiration of those men in +the Cross-Triangle corrals was again the troubled, shamefaced, +half-frightened creature whom Phil met on the Divide. + +But the good Dean did not see, and so, encouraged by the other's +silence, he continued his dissertation. "Of course, I don't mean to say +that education and that sort of thing spoils every man. Now, there's +young Stanford Manning--" + +If the Dean had suddenly fired a gun at Patches, the young man could not +have shown greater surprise and consternation. "Stanford Manning!" he +gasped. + +At his tone the Dean turned to look at him curiously. "I mean Stanford +Manning, the mining engineer," he explained. "Do you know him?" + +"I have heard of him," Patches managed to reply. + +"Well," continued the Dean, "he came out to this country about three +years ago--straight from college--and he has sure made good. He's got +the education an' culture an' polish an' all that, an' with it he can +hold his own among any kind or sort of men livin'. There ain't a +man--cow-puncher, miner or anything else--in Yavapai County that don't +take off his hat to Stanford Manning." + +"Is he in this country now?" asked Patches, with an effort at +self-control that the Dean did not notice. + +"No, I understand his Company called him back East about a month ago. +Goin' to send him to some of their properties up in Montana, I heard." + +When his companion made no comment, the Dean said reflectively, as Buck +and Prince climbed slowly up the grade to the summit of the Divide, +"I'll tell you, son, I've seen a good many changes in this country. I +can remember when there wasn't a fence in all Yavapai County--hardly in +the Territory. And now--why the last time I drove over to Skull Valley I +got so tangled up in 'em that I plumb lost myself. When Phil's daddy an' +me was youngsters we used to ride from Camp Verde and Flagstaff clean to +Date Creek without ever openin' a gate. But I can't see that men change +much, though. They're good and bad, just like they've always been--an' I +reckon always will be. There's been leaders and weaklin's and just +betwixt and betweens in every herd of cattle or band of horses that ever +I owned. You take Phil, now. He's exactly like his daddy was before +him." + +"His father must have been a fine man," said Patches, with quiet +earnestness. + +The Dean looked at him with an approving twinkle. "Fine?" For a few +minutes, as they were rounding the turn of the road on the summit of the +Divide where Phil and the stranger had met, the Dean looked away toward +Granite Mountain. Then, as if thinking aloud, rather than purposely +addressing his companion, he said, "John Acton--Honest John, as +everybody called him--and I came to this country together when we were +boys. Walked in, sir, with some pioneers from Kansas. We kept in touch +with each other all the while we was growin' to be men; punched cattle +for the same outfits most of the time; even did most of our courtin' +together, for Phil's mother an' Stella were neighbors an' great friends +over in Skull Valley. When we'd finally saved enough to get started we +located homesteads close together back there in the Valley, an' as soon +as we could get some sort of shacks built we married the girls and set +up housekeepin'. Our stock ranged together, of course, but John sort of +took care of the east side of the meadows an' I kept more to the west. +When the children came along--John an' Mary had three before Phil, but +only Phil lived--an' the stock had increased an' we'd built some decent +houses, things seemed to be about as fine as possible. Then John went on +a note for a man in Prescott. I tried my best to keep him out of it, +but, shucks! he just laughed at me. You see, he was one of the best +hearted men that ever lived--one of those men, you know, that just +naturally believes in everybody. + +"Well, it wound up after a-while by John losin' mighty nigh everything. +We managed to save the homestead, but practically all the stock had to +go. An' it wasn't more than a year after that till Mary died. We never +did know just what was the matter with her--an' after that it seemed +like John never was the same. He got killed in the rodeo that same +fall--just wasn't himself somehow. I was with him when he died. + +"Stella and me raised Phil--we don't know any difference between him and +one of our own boys. The old homestead is his, of course, but Jim Reid's +stock runs on the old range. Phil's got a few head that he works with +mine--a pretty good bunch by now--for he's kept addin' to what his +father left, an' I've paid him wages ever since he was big enough. Phil +don't say much, even to Stella an' me, but I know he's figurin' on +fixin' up the old home place some day." + +After a long silence the Dean said again, as if voicing some conclusion +of his unspoken thoughts: "Jim Reid is pretty well fixed, you see, an' +Kitty bein' the only girl, it's natural, I reckon, that they should have +ideas about her future, an' all that. I reckon it's natural, too, that +the girl should find ranch life away out here so far from anywhere, a +little slow after her three years at school in the East. She never says +it, but somehow you can most always tell what Kitty's thinkin' without +her speakin' a word." + +"I have known people like that," said Patches, probably because there +was so little that he could say. + +"Yes, an' when you know Kitty, you'll say, like I always have, that if +there's a man in Yavapai County that wouldn't ride the hoofs off the +best horse in his outfit, night or day, to win a smile from her, he +ought to be lynched." + +That afternoon in Prescott they purchased an outfit for Patches, and the +following day set out for the long return drive to the ranch. + +They had reached the top of the hill at the western end of the meadow +lane, when they saw a young woman, on a black horse, riding away from +the gate that opens from the lane into the Pot-Hook-S meadow pasture, +toward the ranch buildings on the farther side of the field. + +As they drove into the yard at home, it was nearly supper time, and the +men were coming from the corrals. + +"Kitty's been over all the afternoon," Little Billy informed them +promptly. "I told her all about you, Patches. She says she's just dyin' +to see you." + +Phil joined in the laugh, but Patches fancied that there was a shadow in +the cowboy's usually sunny eyes as the young man looked at him to say, +"That big horse of yours sure made me ride some to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE DRIFT FENCE. + + +The education of Honorable Patches was begun without further delay. +Because Phil's time was so fully occupied with his four-footed pupils, +the Dean himself became the stranger's teacher, and all sorts of odd +jobs about the ranch, from cleaning the pig pen to weeding the garden, +were the text books. The man balked at nothing. Indeed, he seemed to +find a curious, grim satisfaction in accomplishing the most menial and +disagreeable tasks; and when he made mistakes, as he often did, he +laughed at himself with such bitter, mocking humor that the Dean +wondered. + +"He's got me beat," the Dean confided to Stella. "There ain't nothin' +that he won't tackle, an' I'm satisfied that the man never did a stroke +of work before in his life. But he seems to be always tryin' experiments +with himself, like he expected himself to play the fool one way or +another, an' wanted to see if he would, an' then when he don't he's as +surprised and tickled as a kid." + +The Dean himself was not at all above assisting his new man in those +experiments, and so it happened that day when Patches had been set to +repairing the meadow pasture fence near the lower corrals. + +The Dean, riding out that way to see how his pupil was progressing, +noticed a particularly cross-tempered shorthorn bull that had wandered +in from the near-by range to water at the house corral. But Phil and his +helpers were in possession of the premises near the watering trough, and +his shorthorn majesty was therefore even more than usual out of patience +with the whole world. The corrals were between the bull and Patches, so +that the animal had not noticed the man, and the Dean, chuckling to +himself, and without attracting Patches' attention, quietly drove the +ill-tempered beast into the enclosure and shut the gate. + +Then, riding around the corral, the Dean called to the young man. When +Patches stood beside his employer, the cattleman said, "Here's a blamed +old bull that don't seem to be feelin' very well. I got him into the +corral all right, but I'm so fat I can't reach him from the saddle. I +wish you'd just halter him with this rope, so I can lead him up to the +house and let Phil and the boys see what's wrong with him." + +Patches took the rope and started toward the corral gate. "Shall I put +it around his neck and make a hitch over his nose, like you do a horse?" +he asked, glad for the opportunity to exhibit his newly acquired +knowledge of ropes and horses and things. + +"No, just tie it around his horns," the Dean answered. "He'll come, all +right." + +The bull, seeing a man on foot at the entrance to his prison, rumbled a +deep-voiced threat, and pawed the earth with angry strength. + +For an instant, Patches, with his hand on the latch of the gate, paused +to glance from the dangerous-looking animal, that awaited his coming, to +the Dean who sat on his horse just outside the fence. Then he slipped +inside the corral and closed the gate behind him. The bull gazed at him +a moment as if amazed at the audacity of this mere human, then lowered +his head for the charge. + +"Climb that gate, quick," yelled the Dean at the critical moment. + +And Patches climbed--not a second too soon. + +From his position of safety he smiled cheerfully at the Dean. "He came +all right, didn't he?" + +The Dean's full rounded front and thick shoulders shook with laughter, +while Señor Bull dared the man on the gate to come down. + +"You crazy fool," said the Dean admiringly, when he could speak. "Didn't +you know any better than to go in there on foot?" + +"But you said you wanted him," returned the chagrined Patches. + +"What I wanted," chuckled the Dean, "was to see if you had nerve enough +to tackle him." + +"To tell the truth," returned Patches, with a happy laugh, "that's +exactly what interested me." + +But, while the work assigned to Patches during those first days of his +stay on the Cross-Triangle was chiefly those odd jobs which called for +little or no experience, his higher education was by no means neglected. +A wise and gentle old cow-horse was assigned to him, and the Dean taught +him the various parts of his equipment, their proper use, and how to +care for them. And every day, sometimes in the morning, sometimes late +in the afternoon, the master found some errand or business that would +necessitate his pupil riding with him. When Phil or Mrs. Baldwin would +inquire about the Dean's kindergarten, as they called it, the Dean would +laugh with them, but always he would say stoutly, "Just you wait. He'll +be as near ready for the rodeo this fall as them pupils in that +kindergarten of Phil's. He takes to ridin' like the good Lord had made +him specially for that particular job. He's just a natural-born +horseman, or I don't know men. He's got the sense, he's got the nerve, +an' he's got the disposition. He's goin' to make a top hand in a few +months, if"--he always added with twinkling eyes--"he don't get himself +killed tryin' some fool experiment on himself." + +"I notice just the same that he always has plenty of help in his +experimentin'," Mrs. Baldwin would return dryly, which saying indicted +not only the Dean but Phil and every man on the Cross-Triangle, +including Little Billy. + +Then came that day when Patches was given a task that--the Dean assured +him--is one of the duties of even the oldest and best qualified cowboys. +Patches was assigned to the work of fenceriding. But when the Dean rode +out with his pupil early that morning to where the drift fence begins at +the corner of the big pasture, and explained that "riding a fence" +meant, in ranch language, looking for breaks and repairing any such when +found, he did not explain the peculiarities of that particular kind of +fence. + +"I told him to be sure and be back by night," he chuckled, as he +explained Patches' absence at dinner to the other members of the +household. + +"That was downright mean of you, Will Baldwin," chided Stella, with her +usual motherly interest in the comfort of her boys. "You know the poor +fellow will lose himself, sure, out in that wild Tailholt Mountain +country." + +The boys laughed. + +"We'll find him in the morning, all right, mother," reassured Phil. + +"He can follow the fence back, can't he?" retorted the Dean. "Or, as far +as that goes, old Snip will bring him home." + +"If he knows enough to figger it out, or to let Snip have his head," +said Curly. + +"At any rate," the Dean maintained, "he'll learn somethin' about the +country, an' he'll learn somethin' about fences, an' mebby he'll learn +somethin' about horses. An' we'll see whether he can use his own head or +not. There's nothin' like givin' a man a chance to find out things for +himself sometimes. Besides, think what a chance he'll have for some of +his experiments! I'll bet a yearling steer that when we do see him +again, he'll be tickled to death at himself an' wonderin' how he had the +nerve to do it." + +"To do what?" asked Mrs. Baldwin. + +"I don't know what," chuckled the Dean; "but he's bound to do some fool +thing or other just to see if he can, and it'll be somethin' that nobody +but him would ever think of doin', too." + +But Honorable Patches did not get lost that day--that is, not too badly +lost. There was a time, though--but that does not belong just here. + +Patches was very well pleased with the task assigned to him that +morning. For the first time he found himself trusted alone with a horse, +on a mission that would keep him the full day in the saddle, and would +take him beyond sight of the ranch house. Very bravely he set out, +equipped with his cowboy regalia--except the riata, which the Dean, +fearing experiments, had, at the last moment, thoughtfully borrowed--and +armed with a fencing tool and staples. He was armed, too, with a +brand-new "six-gun" in a spick and span holster, on a shiny belt of +bright cartridges. The Dean had insisted on this, alleging that the +embryo cowboy might want it to kill a sick cow or something. + +Patches wondered if he would know a sick cow if he should meet one, or +how he was to diagnose the case to ascertain if she were sick enough to +kill. + +The first thing he did, when the Dean was safely out of sight, was to +dismount and examine his saddle girth. Always your real king of the +cattle range is careful for the foundation of his throne. But there was +no awkwardness, now, when he again swung to his seat. The young man was +in reality a natural athlete. His work had already taken the soreness +and stiffness out of his unaccustomed muscles, and he seemed, as the +Dean had said, a born horseman. And as he rode, he looked about over the +surrounding country with an expression on independence, freedom and +fearlessness very different from the manner of the troubled man who had +faced Phil Acton that night on the Divide. It was as though the spirit +of the land was already working its magic within this man, too. He +patted the holster at his side, felt the handle of the gun, lovingly +fingered the bright cartridges in his shiny belt, leaned sidewise to +look admiringly down at his fringed, leather chaps and spur ornamented +boot heels, and wished for his riata--not forgetting, meanwhile, to scan +the fence for places that might need his attention. + +The guardian angel who cares for the "tenderfoot" was good to Patches +that day, and favored him with many sagging wires and leaning or broken +posts, so that he could not ride far. Being painstaking and +conscientious in his work, he had made not more than four miles by the +beginning of the afternoon. Then he found a break that would occupy him +for two hours at least. With rueful eyes he surveyed the long stretch of +dilapidated fence. It was time, he reflected, that the Dean sent someone +to look after his property, and dismounting, he went to work, +forgetting, in his interest in the fencing problem, to insure his +horse's near-by attendance. Now, the best of cow-horses are not above +taking advantage of their opportunities. Perhaps Snip felt that +fenceriding with a tenderfoot was a little beneath the dignity of his +cattle-punching years. Perhaps he reasoned that this man who was always +doing such strange things was purposely dismissing him. Perhaps he was +thinking of the long watering trough and the rich meadow grass at home. +Or, perhaps again, the wise old Snip, feeling the responsibility of his +part in training the Dean's pupil, merely thought to give his +inexperienced master a lesson. However it happened, Patches looked up +from his work some time later to find himself alone. In consternation, +he stood looking about, striving to catch a glimpse of the vanished +Snip. Save a lone buzzard that wheeled in curious circles above his head +there was no living thing in sight. + +As fast as his heavy, leather chaps and high-heeled, spur-ornamented +boots would permit, he ran to the top of a knoll a hundred yards or so +away. The wider range of country that came thus within the circle of his +vision was as empty as it was silent. The buzzard wheeled nearer--the +strange looking creature beneath it seemed so helpless that there might +be in the situation something of vital interest to the tribe. Even +buzzards must be about their business. + +There are few things more humiliating to professional riders of the +range than to be left afoot; and while Patches was far too much a novice +to have acquired the peculiar and traditional tastes and habits of the +clan of which he had that morning felt himself a member, he was, in +this, the equal of the best of them. He thought of himself walking +shamefaced into the presence of the Dean and reporting the loss of the +horse. The animal might be recovered, he supposed, for he was still, +Patches thought, inside the pasture which that fence enclosed. Still +there was a chance that the runaway would escape through some break and +never be found. In any case the vision of the grinning cowboys was not +an attractive one. But at least, thought the amateur cowboy, he would +finish the work entrusted to him. He might lose a horse for the Dean, +but the Dean's fence should be repaired. So he set to work with a will, +and, finishing that particular break, set out on foot to follow the +fence around the field and so back to the lane that would lead him to +the buildings and corrals of the home ranch. + +For an hour he trudged along, making hard work of it in his chaps, +boots, and spurs, stopping now and then to drive a staple or brace a +post. The country was growing wilder and more broken, with cedar timber +on the ridges and here and there a pine. Occasionally he could catch a +glimpse of the black, forbidding walls of Tailholt Mountain. But Patches +did not know that it was Tailholt. He only thought that he knew in which +direction the home ranch lay. It seemed to him that it was a long, long +way to the corner of the field--it must be a big pasture, indeed. The +afternoon was well on when he paused on the summit of another ridge to +rest. It, seemed to him that he had never in all his life been quite so +warm. His legs ached. He was tired and thirsty and hungry. It was so +still that the silence hurt, and that fence corner was nowhere in sight. +He could not, now reach home before dark, even should he turn back; +which, he decided grimly, he would not do. He would ride that fence if +he camped three nights on the journey. + +Suddenly he sprang to his feet, waving his hat, hallooing and yelling +like a madman. Two horsemen were riding on the other side of the fence, +along the slope of the next ridge, at the edge of the timber. In vain +Patches strove to attract their attention. If they heard him, they gave +no sign, and presently he saw them turn, ride in among the cedars, and +disappear. In desperation he ran along the fence, down the hill, across +the narrow little valley, and up the ridge over which the riders had +gone. On the top of the ridge he stopped again, to spend the last of his +breath in another series of wild shouts. But there was no answer. Nor +could he be sure, even, which way the horsemen had gone. + +Dropping down in the shade of a cedar, exhausted by his strenuous +exertion, and wet with honest perspiration, he struggled for breath and +fanned his hot face with his hat. Perhaps he even used some of the +cowboy words that he had heard Curly and Bob employ when Little Billy +was not around After the noise of his frantic efforts, the silence was +more oppressive than ever. The Cross-Triangle ranch house was, +somewhere, endless miles away. + +Then a faint sound in the narrow valley below him caught his ear. +Turning quickly, he looked back the way he had come. Was he dreaming, or +was it all just a part of the magic of that wonderful land? A young +woman was riding toward him--coming at an easy swinging lope--and, +following, at the end of a riata, was the cheerfully wise and +philosophic Snip. + +Patches' first thought--when he had sufficiently recovered I from his +amazement to think at all--was that the woman rode as he had never seen +a woman ride before. Dressed in the divided skirt of corduroy, the +loose, soft, gray shirt, gauntleted gloves, mannish felt hat, and boots, +usual to Arizona horsewomen, she seemed as much at ease in the saddle as +any cowboy in the land; and, indeed, she was. + +As she came up the slope, the man in the shade of the cedar saw that she +was young. Her lithe, beautifully developed body yielded to the movement +of the spirited horse she rode with the unspoiled grace of health and +youth. Still nearer, and he saw her clear cheeks glowing with the +exercise and excitement, her soft, brown hair under the wide brim of the +gray sombrero, and her dark eyes, shining with the fun of her adventure. +Then she saw him, and smiled; and Patches remembered what the Dean had +said: "If there's a man in Yavapai County who wouldn't ride the hoofs +off the best horse in his outfit to win a smile from Kitty Reid, he +ought to be lynched." + +As the man stood, hat in hand, she checked her horse, and, in a voice +that matched the smile so full of fun and the clean joy of living +greeted him. + +"You are Mr. Honorable Patches, are you not?" + +Patches bowed. "Miss Reid, I believe?" + +She frankly looked her surprise. "Why, how did you know me?" + +"Your good friend, Mr. Baldwin, described you," he smiled. + +She colored and laughed to hide her slight embarrassment. "The dear old +Dean is prejudiced, I fear." + +"Prejudiced he may be," Patches admitted, "but his judgement is +unquestionable. And," he added gently, as her face grew grave and her +chin lifted slightly, "his confidence in any man might be considered an +endorsement, don't you think?" + +"Indeed, yes," she agreed heartily, her slight coldness vanishing +instantly. "The Dean and Stella told me all about you this afternoon, or +I should not have ventured to introduce myself. I am very pleased to +meet you, Mr. Patches," she finished with a mock formality that was +delightful. + +"And I am delighted to meet you, Miss Reid, for so many reasons that I +can't begin to tell you of them," he responded laughing. "And now, may I +ask what good magic brings you like a fairy in the story book to the +rescue of a poor stranger in the hour of his despair? Where did you find +my faithless Snip? How did you know where to find me? Where is the +Cross-Triangle Ranch? How many miles is it to the nearest water? Is it +possible for me to get home in time for supper?" Looking down at him she +laughed as only Kitty Reid could laugh. + +"You're making fun of me," he charged; "they all do. And I don't blame +them in the least; I have been laughing at myself all day." + +"I'll answer your last question first," she returned. "Yes, you can +easily reach the Cross-Triangle in time for supper, if you start at +once. I will explain the magic as we ride." + +"You are going to show me the way?" he cried eagerly, starting toward +his horse. + +"I really think it would be best," she said demurely. + +"Now I know you are a good fairy, or a guardian angel, or something like +that," he returned, setting his foot in the stirrup to mount. Then +suddenly he paused, with, "Wait a minute, please. I nearly forgot." And +very carefully he examined the saddle girth to see that it was tight. + +"If you had remembered to throw your bridle rein over Snip's head when +you left him, you wouldn't have needed a guardian angel this time," she +said. + +He looked at her blankly over the patient Snip's back. + +"And so that was what made him go away? I knew I had done some silly +thing that I ought not. That's the only thing about myself that I am +always perfectly sure of," he added as he mounted. "You see I can always +depend upon myself to make a fool of myself. It was that bad place in +the fence that did it." He pulled up his horse suddenly as they were +starting. "And that reminds me; there is one thing you positively must +tell me before I can go a foot, even toward supper. How much farther is +it to the corner of this field?" + +She looked at him in pretty amazement. "To the corner of this field?" + +"Yes, I knew, of course, that if I followed the fence it was bound to +lead me around the field and so back to where I started. That's why I +kept on; I thought I could finish the job and get home, even if Snip did +compel me to ride the fence on foot." + +"But don't you know that this is a drift fence?" she asked, her eyes +dancing with fun. + +"That's what the Dean called it," he admitted. "But if it's drifting +anywhere, it's going end on. Perhaps that's why I couldn't catch the +corner." + +"But there is no corner to a drift fence," she cried. + +"No corner?" + +She shook her head as if not trusting herself to speak. + +"And it doesn't go around anything--there is no field?" Again she shook +her head. + +"Just runs away out in the country somewhere and stops?" + +She nodded. "It must be eighteen or twenty miles from here to the end." + +"Well, of all the silly fences!" he exclaimed, looking away to the +mountain peaks toward which he had been so laboriously making his way. +"Honestly, now, do you think that is any way for a respectable fence to +act? And the Dean told me to be sure and get home before dark!" + +Then they laughed together--laughed until their horses must have +wondered. + +As they rode on, she explained the purpose of the drift fence, and how +it came to an end so many miles away and so far from water that the +cattle do not usually find their way around it. + +"And now the magic!" he said. "You have made a most unreasonable, +unconventional and altogether foolish fence appear reasonable, proper +and perfectly sane. Please explain your coming with Snip to my relief." + +"Which was also unreasonable, unconventional and altogether foolish?" +she questioned. + +"Which was altogether wonderful, unexpected and delightful," he +retorted. + +"It is all perfectly simple," she explained. "Being rather--" She +hesitated. "Well, rather sick of too much of nothing at all, you know, I +went over to the Cross-Triangle right after dinner to visit a little +with Stella--professionally." + +"Professionally?" he asked. + +She nodded brightly. "For the good of my soul. Stella's a famous soul +doctor. The best ever except one, and she lives far away--away back east +in Cleveland, Ohio." + +"Yes, I know her, too," he said gravely. + +And while they laughed at the absurdity of his assertion, they did not +know until long afterward how literally true it was. + +"Of course, I knew about you," she continued. "Phil told me how you +tried to ride that unbroken horse, the last time he was at our house. +Phil thinks you are quite a wonderful man." + +"No doubt," said Patches mockingly. "I must have given a remarkable +exhibition on that occasion." He was wondering just how much Phil had +told her. + +"And so, you see," she continued, "I couldn't very well help being +interested in the welfare of the stranger who had come among us. +Besides, our traditional western hospitality demanded it; don't you +think?" + +"Oh, certainly, certainly. You could really do nothing less than inquire +about me," he agreed politely. + +"And so, you see, Stella quite restored my soul health; or at least +afforded me temporary relief." + +He met the quizzing, teasing, laughing look in her eyes blankly. "You +are making fun of me again," he said humbly. "I know I ought to laugh at +myself, but--" + +"Why, don't you understand?" she cried. "Dr. Stella administered a +generous dose of talk about the only new thing that has happened in this +neighborhood for months and months and months." + +"Meaning me?" he asked. + +"Well, are you not?" she retorted. + +"I guess I am," he smiled. "Well, and then what?" + +"Why, then I came away, feeling much better, of course." + +"Yes?" + +"I was feeling so much better I decided I would go home a roundabout +way; perhaps to the top of Black Hill; perhaps up Horse Wash, where I +might meet father, who would be on his way home from Fair Oaks where he +went this morning." + +"I see." + +"Well, so I met Snip, who was on his way to the Cross-Triangle. I knew, +of course, that old Snip would be your horse." She smiled, as though to +rob her words of any implied criticism of his horsemanship. + +"Exactly," he agreed understandingly. + +"And I was afraid that something might have happened; though I couldn't +see how that could be, either, with Snip. And so I caught him--" + +He interrupted eagerly. "How?" + +"Why, with my riata," she returned, in a matter-of-fact tone, wondering +at his question. + +"You caught my horse with your riata?" he repeated slowly. + +"And pray how should I have caught him?" she asked. + +"But--but, didn't he _run_?" + +She laughed. "Of course he ran. They all do that once they get away from +you. But Snip never could outrun my Midnight," she retorted. + +He shook his head slowly, looking at her with frank admiration, as +though, for the first time, he understood what a rare and wonderful +creature she was. + +"And you can ride and rope like that?" he said doubtfully. + +She flushed hotly, and there was a spark of fire in the brown eyes. "I +suppose you are thinking that I am coarse and mannish and all that," she +said with spirit. "By your standards, Mr. Patches, I should have ridden +back to the house, screaming, ladylike, for help." + +"No, no," he protested. "That's not fair. I was thinking how wonderful +you are. Why, I would give--what wouldn't I give to be able to do a +thing like that!" + +There was no mistaking his earnestness, and Kitty was all sunshine +again, pardoning him with a smile. + +"You see," she explained, "I have always lived here, except my three +years at school. Father taught me to use a riata, as he taught me to +ride and shoot, because--well--because it's all a part of this life, and +very useful sometimes; just as it is useful to know about hotels and +time-tables and taxicabs, in that other part of the world." + +"I understand," he said gently. "It was stupid of me to notice it. I beg +your pardon for interrupting the story of my rescue. You had just roped +Snip while he was doing his best to outrun Midnight--simple and easy as +calling a taxi--'Number Two Thousand Euclid Avenue, please'--and there +you are." + +"Oh, do you know Cleveland?" she cried. + +For an instant he was confused. Then he said easily, "Everybody has +heard of the famous Euclid Avenue. But how did you guess where Snip had +left me?" + +"Why, Stella had told me that you were riding the drift fence," she +answered, tactfully ignoring the evasion of her question. "I just +followed the fence. So there was no magic about it at all, you see." + +"I'm not so sure about the magic," he returned slowly. + +"This is such a wonderful country--to me--that one can never be quite +sure about anything. At least, I can't. But perhaps that's because I am +such a new thing." + +"And do you like it?" she asked, frankly curious about him. + +"Like being a new thing?" he parried. "Yes and No." + +"I mean do you like this wonderful country, as you call it?" + +"I admire the people who belong to it tremendously," he returned. "I +never met such men before--or such women," he finished with a smile. + +"But, do you like it?" she persisted. "Do you like the life--your +work--would you be satisfied to live here always?" + +"Yes and No," he answered again, hesitatingly. + +"Oh, well," she said, with, he thought, a little bitterness and +rebellion, "it doesn't really matter to you whether you like it or not, +because _you_ are a man. If you are not satisfied with your environment, +you can leave it--go away somewhere else--make yourself a part of some +other life." + +He shook his head, wondering a little at her earnestness. "That does not +always follow. Can a man, just because he is a man, always have or do +just what he likes?" + +"If he's strong enough," she insisted. "But a woman must always do what +other people like." + +He was sure now that she was speaking rebelliously. + +She continued, "Can't you, if you are not satisfied with this life here, +go away?" + +"Yes, but not necessarily to any life I might desire. Perhaps some +sheriff wants me. Perhaps I am an escaped convict. Perhaps--oh, a +thousand things." + +She laughed aloud in spite of her serious mood. "What nonsense!" + +"But, why nonsense? What do you and your friends know of me?" + +"We know that you are not that kind of a man," she retorted warmly, +"because"--she hesitated--"well, because you are _not_ that sort of a +man." + +"Are you sure you don't mean because I am not man enough to make myself +wanted very badly, even by the sheriff?" he asked, and Kitty could not +mistake the bitterness in his voice. + +"Why, Mr. Patches!" she cried. "How could you think I meant such a +thing? Forgive me! I was only wondering foolishly what you, a man of +education and culture, could find in this rough life that would appeal +to you in any way. My curiosity is unpardonable, I suppose, but you must +know that we are all wondering why you are here." + +"I do not blame you," he returned, with that self-mocking smile, as +though he were laughing at himself. "I told you I could always be +depended upon to make a fool of myself. You see I am doing it now. I +don't mind telling you this much--that I am here for the same reason +that you went to visit Mrs. Baldwin this afternoon." + +"For the good of your soul?" she asked gently. + +"Exactly," he returned gravely. "For the good of my soul." + +"Well, then, Mr. Honorable Patches, here's to your soul's good health!" +she cried brightly, checking her horse and holding out her hand. "We +part here. You can see the Cross-Triangle buildings yonder. I go this +way." + +He looked his pleasure, as he clasped her hand in hearty understanding +of the friendship offered. + +"Thank you, Miss Reid. I still maintain that the Dean's judgment is +unquestionable." + +She was not at all displeased with his reply. + +"By the way," she said, as if to prove her friendship. "I suppose you +know what to expect from Uncle Will and the boys when they learn of your +little adventure?" + +"I do," he answered, as if resigned to anything. + +"And do you enjoy making fun for them?" + +"I assure you, Miss Reid, I am very human." + +"Well, then, why don't you turn the laugh on them?" + +"But how?" + +"They are expecting you to get into some sort of a scrape, don't you +think?" + +"They are always expecting that. And," he added, with that droll touch +in his voice, "I must say I rarely disappoint them." + +"I suspect," she continued, thoughtfully, "that the Dean purposely did +not explain that drift fence to you." + +"He has established precedents that would justify my thinking so, I'll +admit." + +"Well, then, why don't you ride cheerfully home and report the progress +of your work as though nothing had happened?" + +"You mean that you won't tell?" he cried. + +She nodded gaily. "I told them this afternoon that it wasn't fair for +you to have no one but Stella on your side." + +"What a good Samaritan you are! You put me under an everlasting +obligation to you." + +"All right," she laughed. "I'm glad you feel that way about it. I shall +hold that debt against you until some day when I am in dreadful need, +and then I shall demand payment in full. Good-by!" + +And once again Kitty had spoken, in jest, words that held for them both, +had they but known, great significance. + +Patches watched until she was out of sight. Then he made his way +happily to the house to receive, with a guilty conscience but with a +light heart, congratulations and compliments upon his safe return. + +That evening Phil disappeared somewhere, in the twilight. And a little +later Jim Reid rode into the Cross-Triangle dooryard. + +The owner of the Pot-Hook-S was a big man, tall and heavy, outspoken and +somewhat gruff, with a manner that to strangers often seemed near to +overbearing. When Patches was introduced, the big cattleman looked him +over suspiciously, spoke a short word in response to Patches' +commonplace, and abruptly turned his back to converse with the +better-known members of the household. + +For an hour, perhaps, they chatted about matters of general interest, as +neighbors will; then the caller arose to go, and the Dean walked with +him to his horse. When the two men were out of hearing of the people on +the porch Reid asked in a low voice, "Noticed any stock that didn't look +right lately, Will?" + +"No. You see, we haven't been ridin' scarcely any since the Fourth. Phil +and the boys have been busy with the horses every day, an' this new man +don't count, you know." + +"Who is he, anyway?" asked Reid bluntly. + +"I don't know any more than that he says his name is Patches." + +"Funny name," grunted Jim. + +"Yes, but there's a lot of funny names, Jim," the Dean answered quietly. +"I don't know as Patches is any funnier than Skinner or Foote or Hogg, +or a hundred other names, when you come to think about it. We ain't +just never happened to hear it before, that's all." + +"Where did you pick him up?" + +"He just came along an' wanted work. He's green as they make 'em, but +willin', an' he's got good sense, too." + +"I'd go slow 'bout takin' strangers in," said the big man bluntly. + +"Shucks!" retorted the Dean. "Some of the best men I ever had was +strangers when I hired 'em. Bein' a stranger ain't nothin' against a +man. You and me would be strangers if we was to go many miles from +Williamson Valley. Patches is a good man, I tell you. I'll stand for +him, all right. Why, he's been out all day, alone, ridin' the drift +fence, just as good any old-timer." + +"The drift fence!" + +"Yes, it's in pretty bad shape in places." + +"Yes, an' I ran onto a calf over in Horse Wash, this afternoon, not four +hundred yards from the fence on the Tailholt side, fresh-branded with +the Tailholt iron, an' I'll bet a thousand dollars it belongs to a +Cross-Triangle cow." + +"What makes you think it was mine?" asked the Dean calmly. + +"Because it looked mighty like some of your Hereford stock, an' because +I came on through the Horse Wash gate, an' about a half mile on this +side, I found one of your cows that had just lost her calf." + +"They know we're busy an' ain't ridin' much, I reckon," mused the Dean. + +"If I was you, I'd put some hand that I knew to ridin' that drift +fence," returned Jim significantly, as he mounted his horse to go. + +"You're plumb wrong, Jim," returned the Dean earnestly. "Why, the man +don't know a Cross-Triangle from a Five-Bar, or a Pot-Hook-S." + +"It's your business, Will; I just thought I'd tell you," growled Reid. +"Good-night!" + +"Good-night, Jim! I'm much obliged to you for ridin' over." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THINGS THAT ENDURE. + + +When Kitty Reid told Patches that it was her soul sickness, from too +much of nothing at all, that had sent her to visit Mrs. Baldwin that +afternoon, she had spoken more in earnest than in jest. More than this, +she had gone to the Cross-Triangle hoping to meet the stranger, of whom +she had heard so much. Phil had told Kitty that she would like Patches. +As Phil had put it, the man spoke her language; he could talk to her of +people and books and those things of which the Williamson Valley folk +knew so little. + +But as she rode slowly homeward after leaving Patches, she found herself +of two minds regarding the incident. She had enjoyed meeting the man; he +had interested and amused her; had taken her out of herself, for she was +not slow to recognize that the man really did belong to that world which +was so far from the world of her childhood. And she was glad for the +little adventure that, for one afternoon, at least, had broken the dull, +wearying monotony of her daily life. But the stranger, by the very fact +of his belonging to that other world, had stimulated her desire for +those things which in her home life and environment she so greatly +missed. He had somehow seemed to magnify the almost unbearable +commonplace narrowness of her daily routine. He had made her even more +restless, disturbed and dissatisfied. It had been to her as when one in +some foreign country meets a citizen from one's old home town. And for +this Kitty was genuinely sorry. She did not wish to feel as she did +about her home and the things that made the world of those she loved. +She had tried honestly to still the unrest and to deny the longing. She +had wished many times, since her return from the East, that she had +never left her home for those three years in school. And yet, those +years had meant much to her; they had been wonderful years; but they +seemed, somehow--now that they were past and she was home again--to have +brought her only that unrest and longing. + +From the beginning of her years until that first great crisis in her +life--her going away to school--this world into which she was born had +been to Kitty an all-sufficient world. The days of her childhood had +been as carefree and joyous, almost, as the days of the young things of +her father's roaming herds. As her girlhood years advanced, under her +mother's wise companionship and careful teaching, she had grown into her +share of the household duties and into a knowledge of woman's part in +the life to which she belonged, as naturally as her girlish form had put +on the graces of young womanhood. The things that filled the days of her +father and mother, and the days of her neighbors and friends, had filled +her days. The things that were all in all to those she loved had been +all in all to her. And always, through those years, from her earliest +childhood to her young womanhood, there was Phil, her playmate, +schoolmate, protector, hero, slave. That Phil should be her boy +sweetheart and young man lover had seemed as natural to Kitty as her +relation to her parents. There had never been anyone else but Phil. +There never could be--she was sure, in those days--anyone else. + +In Kitty's heart that afternoon, as she rode, so indifferent to the life +that called from every bush and tree and grassy hill and distant +mountain, there was sweet regret, deep and sincere, for those years that +were now, to her, so irrevocably gone. Kitty did not know how impossible +it was for her to ever wholly escape the things that belonged to her +childhood and youth. Those things of her girlhood, out of which her +heart and soul had been fashioned, were as interwoven in the fabric of +her being as the vitality, strength and purity of the clean, wholesome, +outdoor life of those same years were wrought into the glowing health +and vigor and beauty of her physical womanhood. + +And then had come those other years--the maturing, ripening years--when, +from the simple, primitive and enduring elements of life, she had gone +to live amid complex, cultivated and largely fanciful standards and +values. In that land of Kitty's birth a man is measured by the measure +of his manhood; a woman is ranked by the quality of her womanhood. +Strength and courage, sincerity, honesty, usefulness--these were the +prime essentials of the man life that Kitty had, in those years of her +girlhood, known; and these, too, in their feminine expressions, were the +essentials of the woman life. But from these the young woman had gone +to be educated in a world where other things are of first importance. +She had gone to be taught that these are not the essential elements of +manhood and womanhood. Or, at least, if she was not to be deliberately +so taught, these things would be so ignored and neglected and overlooked +in her training, that the effect on her character would be the same. In +that new world she was to learn that men and women are not to be +measured by the standards of manhood and womanhood--that they were to be +rated, not for strength, but for culture; not for courage, but for +intellectual cleverness; not for sincerity, but for manners; not for +honesty, but for success; not for usefulness, but for social position, +which is most often determined by the degree of uselessness. It was as +though the handler of gems were to attach no value whatever to the +weight of the diamond itself, but to fix the worth of the stone wholly +by the cutting and polish that the crystal might receive. + +At first, Kitty had been excited, bewildered and fascinated by the +glittering, sparkling, ever-changing, many-faceted life. Then she had +grown weary and homesick. And then, as the months had passed, and she +had been drawn more and more by association and environment into the +world of down-to-dateism she, too, began to regard the sparkle of the +diamond as the determining factor in the value of the gem. And when the +young woman had achieved this, they called her education finished, and +sent her back to the land over which Granite Mountain, gray and grim and +fortress-like, with its ranks of sentinel bills? keeps enduring and +unchanging watch. + +During those first glad days of Kitty's homecoming she had been eagerly +interested in everything. The trivial bits of news about the small +doings of her old friends had been delightful. The home life, with its +simple routine and its sweet companionship, had been restful and +satisfying. The very scenes of her girlhood had seemed to welcome her +with a spirit of genuineness and steadfastness that had made her feel as +one entering a safe home harbor after a long and adventurous voyage to +far-away and little-known lands. And Phil, in the virile strength of his +manhood, in the simple bigness of his character, and in his enduring and +unchanging love, had made her feel his likeness to the primitive land of +his birth. + +But when the glad excitement of those first days of her return were +past, when the meetings with old friends were over and the tales of +their doings exhausted, then Kitty began to realize what her education, +as they called it, really meant. The lessons of those three years were +not to be erased from her life as one would erase a mistake in a problem +or a misspelled word. The tastes, habits of thought and standards of +life, the acquirement of which constituted her culture, would not be +denied. It was inevitable that there should be a clash between the +claims of her home life and the claims of that life to which she now +felt that she also belonged. + +However odious comparisons may be, they are many times inevitable. +Loyally, Kitty tried to magnify the worth of those things that in her +girlhood had been the supreme things in her life, but, try as she might, +they were now, in comparison with those things which her culture placed +first, of trivial importance. The virile strength and glowing health of +Phil's unspoiled manhood--beautiful as the vigorous life of one of the +wild horses from which he had his nickname--were overshadowed, now, by +the young man's inability to clothe his splendid body in that fashion +which her culture demanded. His simple and primitive views of life--as +natural as the instinct which governs all creatures in his +God-cultivated world--were now unrefined, ignoble, inelegant. His fine +nature and unembarrassed intelligence, which found in the wealth of +realities amid which he lived abundant food for his intellectual life, +and which enabled him to see clearly, observe closely and think with +such clean-cut directness, beside the intellectuality of those schooled +in the thoughts of others, appeared as ignorance and illiteracy. The +very fineness and gentleness of his nature were now the distinguishing +marks of an uncouth and awkward rustic. + +With all her woman heart Kitty had fought against these comparisons--and +continued to make them. Everything in her nature that belonged to +Granite Mountain--that was, in short, the product of that land--answered +to Phil's call, as instinctively as the life of that land calls and +answers Its mating calls. Everything that she had acquired in those +three years of a more advanced civilization denied and repulsed him. And +now her meeting with Patches had stirred the warring forces to renewed +activity, and in the distracting turmoil of her thoughts she found +herself hating the land she loved, loathing the life that appealed to +her with such insistent power, despising those whom she so dearly +esteemed and honored, and denying the affection of which she was proud +with a true woman's tender pride. + +Kitty was aroused from her absorption by the shrill boyish yells of her +two younger brothers, who, catching sight of their sister from the top +of one of the low hills that edge the meadow bottom lands, were charging +recklessly down upon her. + +As the clatter and rumble of those eight flying hoofs drew nearer and +nearer, Midnight, too, "came alive," as the cowboys say, and tossed his +head and pranced with eager impatience. + +"Where in the world have you been all the afternoon?" demanded Jimmy, +with twelve-year-old authority, as his pony slid to a halt within a foot +or two of his sister's horse. + +And, "We wanted you to go with us, to see our coyote traps," reproved +Conny--two years younger than his brother--as his pinto executed a like +maneuver on the other side of the excited Midnight. + +"And where is Jack?" asked the young woman mischievously, as she +smilingly welcomed the vigorous lads. + +"Couldn't he help?" + +Jack was the other member of the Reid trio of boys--a lusty +four-year-old who felt himself equal to any venture that interested his +brothers. + +Jimmy grinned. "Aw, mama coaxed him into the kitchen with something to +eat while me and Conny sneaked down to the corral and saddled up and +beat it." + +Big sister's dark eyebrows arched in shocked inquiry, "_Me_ and Conny?" + +"That is, Conny and I," amended Jimmy, with good-natured tolerance of +his sister's whims. + +"You see, Kitty," put in Conny, "this hero coyote traps pin' ain't just +fun. It's business. Dad's promised us three dollars for every scalp, an' +we're aimin' to make a stake. We didn't git a blamed thing, to-day, +though." + +Sister's painful and despairing expression was blissfully ignored as +Jimmy stealthily flicked the long romal at the end of his bridle reins +against Midnight's flank. + +"Gee!" observed the tickled youngster, as Kitty gave all her attention +to restraining the fretting and indignant horse, "ol' Midnight is sure +some festive, ain't he?" + +"I'll race you both to the big gate," challenged Kitty. + +"For how much?" demanded Jimmy quickly. + +"You got to give us fifty yards start," declared Conny, leaning forward +in his saddle and shortening his reins. + +"If I win, you boys go straight to bed to-night, when it's time, without +fussing," said Kitty, "and I'll give you to that oak bush yonder." + +"Good enough! You're on!" they shouted in chorus, and loped away. + +As they passed the handicap mark, another shrill, defiant yell came +floating back to where Kitty sat reining in her impatient Midnight. At +the signal, the two ponies leaped from a lope into a full run, while +Kitty loosed the restraining rein and the black horse stretched away in +pursuit. Spurs ring, shouting, entreating, the two lads urged their +sturdy mounts toward the goal, and the pintos answered gamely with all +that they had. Over knolls and washes, across arroyos and gullies they +flew, sure-footed and eager, neck and neck, while behind them, drawing +nearer and nearer, came the black, with body low, head outstretched and +limbs that moved apparently with the timed regularity and driving power +of a locomotive's piston rod. As she passed them, Kitty shouted a merry +"Come on!" which they answered with redoubled exertion and another yell +of hearty boyish admiration for the victorious Midnight and his +beautiful rider. + +"Doggone that black streak!" exclaimed Jimmy, his eyes dancing with fun +as they pulled up at the corral gate. + +"He opens and shuts like a blamed ol' jack rabbit," commented Conny. +"Seemed like we was just a-sittin' still watchin' you go by." + +Kitty laughed, teasingly, and unconsciously slipped into the vernacular +as she returned, "Did you kids think you were a-horseback?" + +"You just wait, Miss," retorted the grinning Jimmy, as he opened the big +gate. "I'll get a horse some day that'll run circles around that ol' +black scound'el." + +And then, as they dismounted at the door of the saddle room in the big +barn, he added generously, "You scoot on up to the house, Kitty; I'll +take care of Midnight. It must be gettin' near supper time, an' I'm +hungry enough to eat a raw dog." + +At which alarming statement Kitty promptly scooted, stopping only long +enough at the windmill pump for a cool, refreshing drink. + +Mrs. Reid, with sturdy little Jack helping, was already busy in the +kitchen. She was a motherly woman, rather below Kitty's height, and +inclined somewhat to a comfortable stoutness. In her face was the gentle +strength and patience of those whose years have been spent in +home-making, without the hardness that is sometimes seen in the faces of +those whose love is not great enough to soften their tail. One knew by +the light in her eyes whenever she spoke of Kitty, or, indeed, whenever +the girl's name was mentioned, how large a place her only daughter held +in her mother heart. + +While the two worked together at their homely task, the girl related in +trivial detail the news of the neighborhood, and repeated faithfully the +talk she had had with the mistress of the Cross-Triangle, answering all +her mother's questions, replying with careful interest to the older +woman's comments, relating all that was known or guessed, or observed +regarding the stranger. But of her meeting with Patches, Kitty said +little; only that she had met him as she was coming home. All during the +evening meal, too, Patches was the principal topic of the conversation, +though Mr. Reid, who had arrived home just in time for supper, said +little. + +When supper was over, and the evening work finished, Kitty sat on the +porch in the twilight, looking away across the wide valley meadows, +toward the light that shone where the walnut trees about the +Cross-Triangle ranch house made a darker mass in the gathering gloom. +Her father had gone to call upon the Dean. The men were at the +bunk-house, from which their voices came low and indistinct. Within the +house the mother was coaxing little Jack to bed. Jimmy and Conny, at the +farther end of the porch, were planning an extensive campaign against +coyotes, and investing the unearned profits of their proposed industry. + +Kitty's thoughts were many miles away. In that bright and stirring +life--so far from the gloomy stillness of her home land, where she sat +so alone--what gay pleasures held her friends? Amid what brilliant +scenes were they spending the evening, while she sat in her dark and +silent world alone? As her memory pictured the lights, the stirring +movement, the music, the merry-voiced talk, the laughter, the gaiety, +the excitement, the companionship of those whose lives were so full of +interest, her heart rebelled at the dull emptiness of her days. As she +watched the evening dusk deepen into the darkness of the night, and the +outlines of the familiar landscape fade and vanish in the thickening +gloom, she felt the dreary monotony of the days and years that were to +come, blotting out of her life all tone and color and forms of +brightness and beauty. + +Then she saw, slowly emerging from the shadows of the meadow below, a +darker shadow--mysterious, formless--that seemed, as it approached, to +shape itself out of the very darkness through which it came, until, +still dim and indistinct, a horseman was opening the meadow gate. Before +the cowboy answered Jimmy's boyish "Hello!" Kitty knew that it was Phil. + +The young woman's first impulse was to retreat to the safe seclusion of +her own room. But, even as she arose to her feet, she knew how that +would hurt the man who had always been so good to her; and so she went +generously down the walk to meet him where he would dismount and leave +his horse. + +"Did you see father?" she asked, thinking as she spoke how little there +was for them to talk about. + +"Why, no. What's the matter?" he returned quickly, pausing as if ready +to ride again at her word. + +She laughed a little at his manner. "There is nothing the matter. He +just went over to see the Dean, that's all." + +"I must have missed him crossing the meadow," returned Phil. "He always +goes around by the road." + +Then, when he stood beside her, he added gently, "But there is something +the matter, Kitty. What is it? Lonesome for the bright lights?" + +That was always Phil's way, she thought. He seemed always to know +instinctively her every mood and wish. + +"Perhaps I was a little lonely," she admitted. "I am glad that you +came." + +Then they were at the porch, and her ambitious brothers were telling +Phil in detail their all-absorbing designs against the peace of the +coyote tribe, and asking his advice. Mrs. Reid came to sit with them +a-while, and again the talk followed around the narrow circle of their +lives, until Kitty felt that she could bear no more. Then Mrs. Reid, +more merciful than she knew, sent the boys to bed and retired to her own +room. + +"And so you are tired of us all, and want to go back," mused Phil, +breaking one of the long, silent periods that in these days seemed so +often to fall upon them when they found themselves alone. + +"That's not quite fair, Phil," she returned gently. "You know it's not +that." + +"Well, then, tired of this"--his gesture indicated the sweep of the +wide land--"tired of what we are and what we do?" + +The girl stirred uneasily, but did not speak. + +"I don't blame you," he continued, as if thinking aloud. "It must seem +mighty empty to those who don't really know it." + +"And don't I know it?" challenged Kitty. "You seem to forget that I was +born here--that I have lived here almost as many years as you." + +"But just the same you don't know," returned Phil gently. "You see, +dear, you knew it as a girl, the same as I did when I was a boy. But +now--well, I know it as a man, and you as a woman know something that +you think is very different." + +Again that long silence lay a barrier between them. Then Kitty made the +effort, hesitatingly. "Do you love the life so very, very much, Phil?" + +He answered quickly. "Yes, but I could love any life that suited you." + +"No--no," she returned hurriedly, "that's not--I mean--Phil, why are you +so satisfied here? There is so little for a man like you." + +"So little!" His voice told her that her words had stung. "I told you +that you did not know. Why, everything that a man has a right to want is +here. All that life can give anywhere is here--I mean all of life that +is worth having. But I suppose," he finished lamely, "that it's hard for +you to see it that way--now. It's like trying to make a city man +understand why a fellow is never lonesome just because there's no crowd +around. I guess I love this life and am satisfied with it just as the +wild horses over there at the foot of old Granite love it and are +satisfied." + +"But don't you feel, sometimes, that if you had greater +opportunities--don't you sometimes wish that you could live where--" She +paused at a loss for words. Phil somehow always made the things she +craved seem so trivial. + +"I know what you mean," he answered. "You mean, don't the wild horses +wish that they could live in a fine stable, and have a lot of men to +feed and take care of them, and rig them out with fancy, gold-mounted +harness, and let them prance down the streets for the crowds to see? No; +horses have more sense than that. It takes a human to make that kind of +a fool of himself. There's only one thing in the world that would make +me want to try it, and I guess you know what that is." + +His last words robbed his answer of its sting, and she said gently, "You +are bitter to-night, Phil. It is not like you." + +He did not answer. + +"Did something go wrong to-day?" she persisted. + +He turned suddenly to face her, and spoke with a passion unusual to him. +"I saw you at the ranch this afternoon--as you were riding away. You did +not even look toward the corral where you knew I was at work; and it +seemed like all the heart went clear out of me. Oh, Kitty, girl, can't +we bring back the old days as they were before you went away?" + +"Hush, Phil," she said, almost as she would have spoken to one of her +boy brothers. + +But he went on recklessly. "No, I'm going to speak to-night. Ever since +you came home you have refused to listen to me--you have put me +off--made me keep still. I want you to tell me, Kitty, if I were like +Honorable Patches, would it make any difference?" + +"I do not know Mr. Patches," she answered. + +"You met him to-day; and you know what I mean. Would it make any +difference if I were like him?" + +"Why, Phil, dear, how can I answer such a question? I do not know." + +"Then it's not because I belong here in this country instead of back +East in some city that has made you change?" + +"I have changed, I suppose, because I have become a woman, Phil, as you +have become a man." + +"Yes, I have become a man," he returned, "but I have not changed, except +that the boy's love has become a man's love. Would it make any +difference, Kitty, if you cared more for the life here--I mean if you +were contented here--if these things that mean so much to us all, +satisfied you?" + +Again she answered, "I do not know, Phil. How can I know?" + +"Will you try, Kitty--I mean try to like your old home as you used to +like it?" + +"Oh, Phil, I have tried. I do try," she cried. "But I don't think it's +the life that I like or do not like that makes the difference. I am +sure, Phil, that if I could"--she hesitated, then went on bravely--"if I +could give you the love you want, nothing else would matter. You said +you could like any life that suited me. Don't you think that I could be +satisfied with any life that suited the man I loved?" + +"Yes," he said, "you could; and that's the answer." + +"What is the answer?" she asked. + +"Love, just love, Kitty--any place with love is a good place, and +without love no life can satisfy. I am glad you said that. It was what I +wanted you to say. I know now what I have to do. I am like Patches. I +have found my job." There was no bitterness in his voice now. + +The girl was deeply moved, but--"I don't think I quite understand, +Phil," she said. + +"Why, don't you see?" he returned. "My job is to win your love--to make +you love me--for myself--for just what I am--as a man--and not to try to +be something or to live some way that I think you would like. It's the +man that you must love, and not what he does or where he lives. Isn't +that it?" + +"Yes," she answered slowly. "I am sure that is so. It must be so, Phil." + +He rose to his feet abruptly. "All right," he said, almost roughly. +"I'll go now. But don't make any mistake, Kitty. You're mine, girl, +mine, by laws that are higher than the things they taught you at school. +And you are going to find it out. I am going to win you--just as the +wild things out there win their mates. You are going to come to me, +girl, because you are mine--because you are my mate." + +And then, as she, too, arose, and they stood for a silent moment facing +each other, the woman felt his strength, and in her woman heart was +glad--glad and proud, though she could not give all that he asked. + +As she watched him ride away into the night, and the soft mystery of the +darkness out of which he had come seemed to take his shadowy form again +to itself, she wondered--wondered with regret in the thought--would he, +perhaps, go thus out of her life? Would he? + +When Phil turned his horse into the meadow pasture at home the big bay, +from somewhere in the darkness, trumpeted his challenge. A low laugh +came from near by, and in the light of the stars Phil saw a man standing +by the pasture fence. As he went toward the shadowy figure the voice of +Patches followed the laugh. + +"I'll bet that was Stranger." + +"I know it was," answered Phil. "What's the matter that you're not in +bed?" + +"Oh, I was just listening to the horses out there, and thinking," +returned Patches. + +"Thinking about your job?" asked Phil quietly. + +"Perhaps," admitted the other. + +"Well, you have no reason to worry; you'll ride him all right," said the +cowboy. + +"I wish I could be as sure," the other returned doubt fully. + +And they both knew that they were using the big bay horse as a symbol. + +"And I wish I was as sure of making good at my job, as I am that you +will win out with yours," returned Phil. + +Patches' voice was very kind as he said reflectively, "So, you have a +job, too. I am glad for that." + +"Glad?" + +"Yes," the tall man placed a hand on the other's shoulder as they turned +to walk toward the house, "because, Phil, I have come to the conclusion +that this old world is a mighty empty place for the man who has nothing +to do." + +"But there seems to be a lot of fellows who manage to keep fairly busy +doing nothing, just the same, don't you think?" replied Phil with a low +laugh. + +"I said _man_'," retorted Patches, with emphasis. + +"That's right," agreed Phil. "A man just naturally requires a man's +job." + +"And," mused Patches, "when it's all said and done, I suppose there's +only one genuine, simon-pure, full-sized man's job in the world." + +"And I reckon that's right, too," returned the cowboy. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +CONCERNING BRANDS. + + +A few days after Jim Reid's evening visit to the Dean two cowboys from +the Diamond-and-a-Half outfit, on their way to Cherry Creek, stopped at +the ranch for dinner. + +The well-known, open-handed Baldwin hospitality led many a passing rider +thus aside from the main valley road and through the long meadow lane to +the Cross-Triangle table. Always there was good food for man and horse, +with a bed for those who came late in the day; and always there was a +hearty welcome and talk under the walnut trees with the Dean. And in all +that broad land there was scarce a cowboy who, when riding the range, +would not look out for the Dean's cattle with almost the same interest +and care that he gave to the animals bearing the brand of his own +employer. + +So it was that these riders from the Tonto Flats country told the Dean +that in looking over the Cross-Triangle cattle watering at Toohey they +had seen several cases of screwworms. + +"We doped a couple of the worst, and branded a calf for you," said +"Shorty" Myers. + +And his companion, Bert Wilson, added, as though apologizing, "We +couldn't stop any longer because we got to make it over to Wheeler's +before mornin'." + +"Much obliged, boys," returned the Dean. Then, with his ever-ready jest, +"Sure you put the right brand on that calf?" + +"We-all ain't ridin' for no Tailholt Mountain outfit this season," +retorted Bert dryly, as they all laughed at the Dean's question. + +And at the cowboy's words Patches, wondering, saw the laughing faces +change and looks of grim significance flash from man to man. + +"Anybody seen anything over your way lately?" asked the Dean quietly. + +In the moment of silence that followed the visitors looked questioningly +from the face of Patches to the Dean and then to Phil. Phil smiled his +endorsement of the stranger, and "Shorty" said, "We found a couple of +fresh-branded calves what didn't seem to have no mothers last week, and +Bud Stillwell says some things look kind o' funny over in the D.1 +neighborhood." + +Another significant silence followed. To Patches, it seemed as the +brooding hush that often precedes a storm. He had not missed those +questioning looks of the visitors, and had seen Phil's smiling +endorsement, but he could not, of course, understand. He could only +wonder and wait, for he felt intuitively that he must not speak. It was +as though these strong men who had received him so generously into +their lives put him, now, outside their circle, while they considered +business of grave moment to themselves. + +"Well, boys," said the Dean, as if to dismiss the subject, "I've been in +this cow business a good many years, now, an' I've seen all kinds of men +come an' go, but I ain't never seen the man yet that could get ahead +very far without payin' for what he got. Some time, one way or another, +whether he's so minded or not, a man's just naturally got to pay." + +"That law is not peculiar to the cattle business, either, is it, Mr. +Baldwin?" The words came from Patches, and as they saw his face, it was +their turn to wonder. + +The Dean looked straight into the dark eyes that were so filled with +painful memories, and wistful desire. "Sir?" + +"I mean," said Patches, embarrassed, as though he had spoken +involuntarily, "that what you say applies to those who live idly--doing +no useful work whatever--as well as to those who are dishonest in +business of any kind, or who deliberately steal outright. Don't you +think so?" + +The Dean--his eyes still fixed on the face of the new man--answered +slowly, "I reckon that's so, Patches. When you come to think about it, +it _must_ be so. One way or another every man that takes what he ain't +earned has to pay for it." + +"Who is he?" asked the visitors of Curly and Bob, as they went for their +horses, when the meal was over. + +The Cross-Triangle men shook their heads. + +"Just blew in one day, and the Dean hired him," said Bob. + +"But he's the handiest man with his fists that's ever been in this neck +of the woods. If you don't believe it, just you start something," added +Curly with enthusiasm. + +"Found it out, did you?" laughed Bert. + +"In something less than a minute," admitted Curly. + +"Funny name!" mused "Shorty." + +Bob grinned. "That's what Curly thought--at first." + +"And then he took another think, huh?" + +"Yep," agreed Curly, "he sure carries the proper credentials to make any +name that he wants to wear good enough for me." + +The visitors mounted their horses, and sat looking appraisingly at the +tall figure of Honorable Patches, as that gentleman passed them at a +little distance, on his way to the barn. + +"Mebby you're right," admitted "Shorty," "but he sure talks like a +schoolmarm, don't he?" + +"He sure ain't no puncher," commented Bert. + +"No, but I'm gamblin' that he's goin' to be," retorted Curly, ignoring +the reference to Patches' culture. + +"Me, too," agreed Bob. + +"Well, we'll all try him out this fall rodeo"; and "better not let him +drift far from the home ranch for a while," laughed the visitors. "So +long!" and they were away. + +Before breakfast the next morning Phil said to Patches, "Catch up Snip, +and give him a feed of grain. You'll ride with me to-day." + +At Patches' look of surprise he explained laughingly, "I'm going to give +my school a little vacation, and Uncle Will thinks it's time you were +out of the kindergarten." + +Later, as they were crossing the big pasture toward the country that +lies to the south, the foreman volunteered the further information that +for the next few weeks they would ride the range. + +"May I ask what for?" said Patches, encouraged by the cowboy's manner. + +It was one of the man's peculiarities that he rarely entered into the +talk of his new friends when their work was the topic of conversation. +And he never asked questions except when alone with Phil or the Dean, +and then only when led on by them. It was not that he sought to hide his +ignorance, for he made no pretenses whatever, but his reticence seemed, +rather, the result of a curious feeling of shame that he had so little +in common with these men whose lives were so filled with useful labor. +And this, if he had known, was one of the things that made them like +him. Men who live in such close daily touch with the primitive realities +of life, and who thereby acquire a simple directness, with a certain +native modesty, have no place in their hearts for--to use their own +picturesque vernacular--a "four-flusher." + +Phil tactfully did not even smile at the question, but answered in a +matter-of-fact tone. "To look out for screw-worms, brand a calf here +and there, keep the water holes open, and look out for the stock +generally." + +"And you mean," questioned Patches doubtfully, "that _I_ am to ride with +you?" + +"Sure. You see, Uncle Will thinks you are too good a man to waste on the +odd jobs around the place, and so I'm going to get you in shape for the +rodeo this fall." + +The effect of his words was peculiar. A deep red colored Patches' face, +and his eyes shone with a glad light, as he faced his companion. "And +you--what do you think about it, Phil?" he demanded. + +The cowboy laughed at the man's eagerness. "Me? Oh, I think just as I +have thought all the time--ever since you asked for a job that day in +the corral." + +Patches drew a long breath, and, sitting very straight in the saddle, +looked away toward Granite Mountain; while Phil, watching him curiously, +felt something like kindly pity in his heart for this man who seemed to +hunger so for a man's work, and a place among men. + +Just outside the Deep Wash gate of the big pasture, a few cattle were +grazing in the open flat. As the men rode toward them, Phil took down +his riata while Patches watched him questioningly. + +"We may as well begin right here," said the cowboy. "Do you see anything +peculiar about anything in that bunch?" + +Patches studied the cattle in vain. + +"What about that calf yonder?" suggested Phil, leisurely opening the +loop of his rope. "I mean that six-months youngster with the white +face." + +Still Patches hesitated. + +Phil helped him again. "Look at his ears." + +"They're not marked," exclaimed Patches. + +"And what should they be marked?" asked the teacher. + +"Under-bit right and a split left, if he belongs to the +Cross-Triangle," returned the pupil proudly, and in the same breath he +exclaimed, "He is not branded either." + +Phil smiled approval. "That's right, and we'll just fix him now, before +somebody else beats us to him." He moved his horse slowly toward the +cattle as he spoke. + +"But," exclaimed Patches, "how do you know that he belongs to the +Cross-Triangle?" + +"He doesn't," returned Phil, laughing. "He belongs to me." + +"But I don't see how you can tell." + +"I know because I know the stock," Phil explained, "and because I happen +to remember that particular calf, in the rodeo last spring. He got away +from us, with his mother, in the cedars and brush over near the head of +Mint Wash. That's one of the things that you have to learn in this +business, you see. But, to be sure we're right, you watch him a minute, +and you'll see him go to a Five-Bar cow. The Five-Bar is my iron, you +know--I have a few head running with Uncle Will's." + +Even as he spoke, the calf, frightened at their closer approach, ran to +a cow that was branded as Phil had said, and the cow, with unmistakable +maternal interest in her offspring, proved the ownership of the calf. + +"You see?" said Phil. "We'll get that fellow now, because before the +next rodeo he'll be big enough to leave his mother, and then; if he +isn't branded, he'll be a maverick, and will belong to anybody that puts +an iron on him." + +"But couldn't someone brand him now, with their brand, and drive him +away from his mother?" asked Patches. + +"Such things have been known to happen, and that not a thousand miles +from here, either," returned Phil dryly. "But, really, you know, Mr. +Patches, it isn't done among the best people." + +Patches laughed aloud at his companion's attempt at a simpering +affectation. Then he watched with admiration while the cowboy sent his +horse after the calf and, too quickly for an inexperienced eye to see +just how it was done, the deft riata stretched the animal by the heels. +With a short "hogging" rope, which he carried looped through a hole cut +in the edge of his chaps near the belt, Phil tied the feet of his +victim, before the animal had recovered from the shock of the fall; and +then, with Patches helping, proceeded to build a small fire of dry grass +and leaves and sticks from a near-by bush. From his saddle, Phil took a +small iron rod, flattened at one end, and only long enough to permit its +being held in the gloved hand when the flattened end was hot--a running +iron, he called it, and explained to his interested pupil, as he thrust +it into the fire, how some of the boys used an iron ring for range +branding. + +"And is there no way to change or erase a brand?" asked Patches, while +the iron was heating. + +"Sure there is," replied Phil. And sitting on his heels, cowboy fashion, +he marked on the ground with a stick. + +"Look! This is the Cross-Triangle brand: [Illustration]; and this: +[Illustration], the Four-Bar-M, happens to be Nick Cambert's iron, over +at Tailholt Mountain. Now, can't you see how, supposing I were Nick, and +this calf were branded with the Cross-Triangle, I could work the iron +over into my brand?" + +Patches nodded. "But is there no way to detect such a fraud?" + +"It's a mighty hard thing to prove that an iron has bees worked over," +Phil answered slowly. "About the only sure way is to catch the thief in +the act." + +"But there are the earmarks," said Patches, a few moments later, when +Phil had released the branded and marked calf--"the earmarks and the +brand wouldn't agree." + +"They would if I were Nick," said the cowboy. Then he added quickly, as +if regretting his remark, "Our earmark is an under-bit right and a split +left, you said. Well, the Four-Bar-M earmark is a crop and an under-bit +right and a swallow-fork left." With the point of his iron now he again +marked in the dirt. "Here's your Cross-Triangle: [Illustration]; and +here's your Pour-Bar-M: [Illustration]." + +"And if a calf branded with a Tailholt iron were to be found following a +Cross-Triangle cow, then what?" came Patches' very natural question. + +"Then," returned the foreman of the Cross-Triangle grimly, "there would +be a mighty good chance for trouble." + +"But it seems to me," said Patches, as they rode on, "that it would be +easily possible for a man to brand another man's calf by mistake." + +"A man always makes a mistake when he puts his iron on another man's +property," returned the cowboy shortly. + +"But might it not be done innocently, just the same!" persisted Patches. + +"Yes, it might," admitted Phil. + +"Well, then, what would you do if you found a calf, that you knew +belonged to the Dean, branded with some other man's brand? I mean, how +would you proceed?" + +"Oh, I see what you are driving at," said Phil in quite a different +tone. "If you ever run on to a case, the first thing for you to do is to +be dead sure that the misbranded calf belongs to one of our cows. Then, +if you are right, and it's not too far, drive the cow and calf into the +nearest corral and report it. If you can't get them to a corral without +too much trouble, just put the Cross-Triangle on the calf's ribs. When +he shows up in the next rodeo, with the right brand on his ribs, and +some other brand where the right brand ought to be--you'll take pains to +remember his natural markings, of course--you will explain the +circumstances, and the owner of the iron that was put on him by mistake +will be asked to vent his brand. A brand is vented by putting the same +brand on the animal's shoulder. Look! There's one now." He pointed to an +animal a short distance away. "See, that steer is branded +Diamond-and-a-Half on hip and shoulder, and Cross-Triangle on his ribs. +Well, when he was a yearling he belonged to the Diamond-and-a-Half +outfit. We picked him up in the rodeo, away over toward Mud Tanks. He +was running with our stock, and Stillwell didn't want to go to the +trouble of taking him home--about thirty miles it is--so he sold him to +Uncle Will, and vented his brand, as you see." + +"I see," said Patches, "but that's different from finding a calf +misbranded." + +"Sure. There was no question of ownership there," agreed Phil. + +"But in the case of the calf," the cowboy's pupil persisted, "if it had +left its mother when the man owning the iron was asked to vent it, there +would be no way of proving the real ownership." + +"Nothing but the word of the man who found the calf with its mother, +and, perhaps, the knowledge of the men who knew the stock." + +"What I am getting at," smiled Patches, "is this: it would come down at +last to a question of men, wouldn't it?" + +"That's where most things come to in, the end in this country, Patches. +But you're right. With owners like Uncle Will, and Jim Reid, and +Stillwell, and dozens of others; and with cowboys like Curly and Bob and +Bert and 'Shorty,' there would be no trouble at all about the matter." + +"But with others," suggested Patches. + +"Well," said Phil slowly, "there are men in this country, who, if they +refused to vent a brand under such circumstances, would be seeing +trouble, and mighty quick, too." + +"There's another thing that we've got to watch out for, just now," Phil +continued, a few minutes later, "and that is, 'sleepers'. We'll +suppose," he explained, "that I want to build up my, bunch of Five-Bars, +and that I am not too particular about how I do it. Well, I run on to an +unbranded Pot-Hook-S calf that looks good to me, but I don't dare put my +iron on him because he's too young to leave his mother. If I let him go +until he is older, some of Jim Reid's riders will brand him, and, you +see, I never could work over the Pot-Hook-S iron into my Five-Bar. So I +earmark the calf with the owner's marks, and don't brand him at all. +Then he's a sleeper. If the Pot-Hook-S boys see him, they'll notice that +he's earmarked all right, and very likely they'll take it for granted +that he's branded, or, perhaps let him go anyway. Before the next rodeo +I run on to my sleeper again, and he's big enough now to take away from +the cow, so all I have to do is to change the earmarks and brand him +with my iron. Of course, I wouldn't get all my sleepers, but--the +percentage would be in my favor. If too many sleepers show up in the +rodeo, though, folks would get mighty suspicious that someone was too +handy with his knife. We got a lot of sleepers in the last rodeo," he +concluded quietly. + +And Patches, remembering what Little Billy had said about Nick Cambert +and Yavapai Joe, and with the talk of the visiting cowboys still fresh +in his mind, realized that he was making progress in his education. + +Riding leisurely, and turning frequently aside for a nearer view of the +cattle they sighted here and there, they reached Toohey a little before +noon. Here, in a rocky hollow of the hills, a small stream wells from +under the granite walls, only to lose itself a few hundred yards away in +the sands and gravel of the wash. But, short as its run in the daylight +is, the water never fails. And many cattle come from the open range that +lies on every side, to drink, and, in summer time, to spend the heat of +the day, standing in the cool, wet sands or lying in the shade of the +giant sycamores that line the bank opposite the bluff. There are corrals +near-by and a rude cook-shack under the wide-spreading branches of an +old walnut tree; and the ground of the flat open space, a little back +from the water, is beaten bare and hard by the thousands upon thousands +of cattle that have at many a past rodeo-time been gathered there. + +The two men found, as the Diamond-and-a-Half riders had said, several +animals suffering from those pests of the Arizona ranges, the +screwworms. As Phil explained to Patches while they watered their +horses, the screwworm is the larva of a blowfly bred in sores on living +animals. The unhealed wounds of the branding iron made the calves by far +the most numerous among the sufferers, and were the afflicted animals +not treated the loss during the season would amount to considerable. + +"Look here, Patches," said the cowboy, as his practiced eyes noted the +number needing attention. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll just run +this hospital bunch into the corral, and you can limber up that riata of +yours." + +And so Patches learned not only the unpleasant work of cleaning the +worm-infested sores with chloroform, but received his first lesson in +the use of the cowboy's indispensable tool, the riata. + +"What next?" asked Patches, as the last calf escaped through the gate +which he had just opened, and ran to find the waiting and anxious +mother. + +Phil looked at his companion, and laughed. Honorable Patches showed the +effect of his strenuous and bungling efforts to learn the rudiments of +the apparently simple trick of roping a calf. His face was streaked with +sweat and dust, his hair disheveled, and his clothing soiled and +stained. But his eyes were bright, and his bearing eager and ready. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, grinning happily at his teacher. "What +fool thing have I done now?" + +"You're doing fine," Phil returned. "I was only thinking that you don't +look much like the man I met up on the Divide that evening." + +"I don't feel much like him, either, as far as that goes," returned +Patches. + +Phil glanced up at the sun. "What do you say to dinner? It must be about +that time." + +"Dinner?" + +"Sure. I brought some jerky--there on my saddle--and some coffee. There +ought to be an old pot in the shack yonder. Some of the boys don't +bother, but I never like to miss a feed unless it's necessary." He did +not explain that the dinner was really a thoughtful concession to his +companion. + +"Ugh!" ejaculated Patches, with a shrug of disgust, the work they had +been doing still fresh in his mind. "I couldn't eat a bite." + +"You think that now," retorted Phil, "but you just go down to the creek, +drink all you can hold, wash up, and see how quick you'll change your +mind when you smell the coffee." + +And thus Patches received yet another lesson--a lesson in the art of +forgetting promptly the most disagreeable features of his work--an art +very necessary to those who aspire to master real work of any sort +whatever. + +When they had finished their simple meal, and lay stretched full length +beneath the overhanging limbs of the age-old tree that had witnessed so +many stirring scenes, and listened to so many camp-fire tales of ranch +and range, they talked of things other than their work. In low tones, as +men who feel a mystic and not-to-be-explained bond of fellowship--with +half-closed eyes looking out into the untamed world that lay before +them--they spoke of life, of its mystery and meaning. And Phil, usually +so silent when any conversation touched himself, and so timid always in +expressing his own self thoughts, was strangely moved to permit this man +to look upon the carefully hidden and deeper things of his life. But +upon his cherished dream--upon his great ambition--he kept the door fast +closed. The time for that revelation of himself was not yet. + +"By the way, Phil," said Patches, when at last his companion signified +that it was time for them to go. "Where were you educated? I don't think +that I have heard you say." + +"I have no education," returned the young man, with a laugh that, to +Patches, sounded a bitter note. "I'm just a common cow-puncher, that's +all." + +"I beg your pardon," returned the other, "but I thought from the books +you mentioned--" + +"Oh, the books! Why, you see, some four years ago a real, +honest-to-goodness book man came out to this country for his health, and +brought his disease along with him." + +"His disease?" questioned Patches. + +Phil smiled. "His books, I mean. They killed him, and I fell heir to +his trouble. He was a good fellow, all right--we all liked him--might +have been a man if he hadn't been so much of a scholar. I was curious, +at first, just to see what it was that had got such a grip on him; and +then I got interested myself. About that time, too, there was a reason +why I thought it might be a good thing for me; so I sent for more, and +have made a fairly good job of it in the past three years. I don't think +that there's any danger, though, of the habit getting the grip on me +that it had on him," he reflected with a whimsical grin. "It was our +book friend who first called Uncle Will the Dean." + +"The title certainly fits him well," remarked Patches. "I don't wonder +that it stuck. I suppose you received yours for your riding?" + +"Mine?" + +"'Wild Horse Phil,' I mean," smiled the other. + +Phil laughed. "Haven't you heard that yarn yet? I reckon I may as well +tell you. No, wait!" he exclaimed eagerly. "We have lots of time. We'll +ride south a little way and perhaps I can show you." + +As they rode away up the creek, Patches wondered much at his companion's +words and at his manner, but the cowboy shook his head at every +question, answering, simply, "Wait." + +Soon they had left the creek bed--passing through a rock gateway at the +beginning of the little stream--and were riding up a long, gently +sloping hollow between two low but rugged ridges. The crest of the rocky +wall on their left was somewhat higher than the ridge on their right, +but, as the floor of the long, narrow hollow ascended, the sides of the +little valley became correspondingly lower. Patches noticed that his +companion was now keenly alert and watchful. He sat his horse easily, +but there was a certain air of readiness in his poise, as though he +anticipated sudden action, while his eyes searched the mountain sides +with eager expectancy. + +They had nearly reached the upper end of the long slope when Phil +abruptly reined his horse to the left and rode straight up that rugged, +rock-strewn mountain wall. To Patches it seemed impossible that a horse +could climb such a place; but he said nothing, and wisely gave Snip his +head. They were nearly at the top--so near, in fact, that Phil could see +over the narrow crest--when the cowboy suddenly checked his horse and +slipped from the saddle. With a gesture he bade his companion follow his +example, and in a moment Patches stood beside him. Leaving their horses, +they crept the few remaining feet to the summit. Crouching low, then +lying prone, they worked their way to the top of a huge rounded rock, +from which they could look over and down upon the country that lies +beyond. + +Patches uttered a low exclamation, but Phil's instant grip on his arm +checked further speech. + +From where they lay, they looked down upon a great mountain basin of +gently rolling, native grass land. From the foot of that rocky ridge, +the beautiful pasture stretches away, several miles, to the bold, gray +cliffs and mighty, towering battlements of Granite Mountain. On the +south, a range of dark hills, and to the north, a series of sharp +peaks, form the natural boundaries. + +"Do you see them?" whispered Phil. + +Patches looked at him inquiringly. The stranger's interest in that +wonderful scene had led him to overlook that which held his companion's +attention. + +"There," whispered Phil impatiently, "on the side of that hill +there--they're not more than four hundred yards away, and they're +working toward us." + +"Do you mean those horses?" whispered Patches, amazed at his companion's +manner. + +Phil nodded. + +"Do they belong to the Cross-Triangle?" asked Patches, still mystified. + +"The Cross-Triangle!" Phil chuckled. Then, with a note of genuine +reverence in his voice, he added softly, "They belong to God, Mr. +Honorable Patches." + +Then Patches understood. "Wild horses!" he ejaculated softly. + +There are few men, I think, who can look without admiration upon a +beautifully formed, noble spirited horse. The glorious pride and +strength and courage of these most kingly of God's creatures--even when +they are in harness and subject to their often inferior masters--compel +respect and a degree of appreciation. But seen as they roam free in +those pastures that, since the creation, have never been marred by plow +or fence--pastures that are theirs by divine right, and the sunny slopes +and shady groves and rocky nooks of which constitute their +kingdom--where, in their lordly strength, they are subject only to the +dictates of their own being, and, unmutilated by human cruelty, rule by +the power and authority of Nature's laws--they stir the blood of the +coldest heart to a quicker flow, and thrill the mind of the dullest with +admiring awe. + +"There's twenty-eight in that bunch," whispered Phil. "Do you see that +big black stallion on guard--the one that throws up his head every +minute or two for a look around?" + +Patches nodded. There was no mistaking the watchful leader of the band. + +"He's the chap that gave me my title, as you call it," chuckled Phil. +"Come on, now, and we'll see them in action; then I'll tell you about +it." + +He slipped from the rock and led the way back to the saddle horses. + +Riding along the ridge, just under the crest, they soon reached the +point where the chain of low peaks merges into the hills that form the +southern boundary of the basin, and so came suddenly into full view of +the wild horses that were feeding on the slopes a little below. + +As the two horsemen appeared, the leader of the band threw up his head +with a warning call to his fellows. + +Phil reined in his horse and motioned for Patches to do the same. + +For several minutes, the black stallion held his place, as motionless as +the very rocks of the mountain side, gazing straight at the mounted men +as though challenging their right to cross the boundary of his kingdom, +while his retainers stood as still, waiting his leadership. With his +long, black mane and tail rippling and waving in the breeze that swept +down from Blair Pass and across the Basin, with his raven-black coat +glistening in the sunlight with the sheen of richest satin where the +swelling muscles curved and rounded from shadow to high light, and with +his poise of perfect strength and freedom, he looked, as indeed he was, +a prince of his kind--a lord of the untamed life that homes in those +God-cultivated fields. + +Patches glanced at his companion, as if to speak, but struck by the +expression on the cowboy's face, remained silent. Phil was leaning a +little forward in his saddle, his body as perfect in its poise of alert +and graceful strength as the body of the wild horse at which he was +gazing with such fixed interest. The clear, deeply tanned skin of his +cheeks glowed warmly with the red of his clean, rich blood, his eyes +shone with suppressed excitement, his lips, slightly parted, curved in a +smile of appreciation, love and reverence for the unspoiled beauty of +the wild creature that he himself, in so many ways, unconsciously +resembled. + +And Patches--bred and schooled in a world so far from this world of +primitive things--looking from Phil to the wild horse, and back again +from the stallion to the man, felt the spirit and the power that made +them kin--felt it with a, to him, strange new feeling of reverence, as +though in the perfect, unspoiled life-strength of man and horse he came +in closer touch with the divine than he had ever known before. + +Then, without taking his eyes from the object of his almost worship, +Phil said, "Now, watch him, Patches, watch him!" + +As he spoke, he moved slowly toward the band, while Patches rode close +by his side. + +At their movement, the wild stallion called another warning to his +followers, and went a few graceful paces toward the slowly approaching +men. And then, as they continued their slow advance, he wheeled with the +smooth grace of a swallow, and, with a movement so light and free that +he seemed rather to skim over the surface of the ground than to tread +upon it, circled here and there about his band, assembling them in +closer order, flying, with ears flat and teeth bared and mane and tail +tossing, in lordly fury at the laggards, driving them before him, but +keeping always between his charges and the danger until they were at +what he evidently judged to be, for their inferior strength, a distance +of safety. Then again he halted his company and, moving alone a short +way toward the horsemen, stood motionless, watching their slow approach. + +Again Phil checked his horse. "God!" he exclaimed under his breath. +"What a sight! Oh, you beauty! You beauty!" + +But Patches was moved less by the royal beauty of the wild stallion than +by the passionate reverence that vibrated in his companion's voice. + +Again the two horsemen moved forward; and again the stallion drove his +band to a safe distance, and stood waiting between them and their +enemies. + +Then the cowboy laughed aloud--a hearty laugh of clean enjoyment. "All +right, old fellow, I'll just give you a whirl for luck," he said aloud +to the wild horse, apparently forgetting his human companion. + +And Patches saw him shorten his reins, and rise a little in his +stirrups, while his horse, as though understanding, gathered himself for +a spring. In a flash Patches was alone, watching as Phil, riding with +every ounce of strength that his mount could command, dashed straight +toward the band. + +For a moment, the black stallion stood watching the now rapidly +approaching rider. Then, wheeling, he started his band, driving them +imperiously, now, to their utmost speed, and then, as though he +understood this new maneuver of the cowboy, he swept past his running +companions, with the clean, easy flight of an arrow, and taking his +place at the head of his charges led them away toward Granite Mountain. + +Phil stopped, and Patches could see him watching, as the wild horses, +with streaming manes and tails, following their leader, who seemed to +run with less than half his strength, swept away across the rolling +hillsides, growing smaller and smaller in the distance, until, as dark, +swiftly moving dots, they vanished over the sky line. + +"Wasn't that great?" cried Phil, when he had loped back to his +companion. "Did you see him go by the bunch like they were standing +still?" + +"There didn't seem to be much show for you to catch him," said Patches. + +"Catch him!" exclaimed Phil. "Did you think I was trying to catch him? I +just wanted to see him go. The horse doesn't live that could put a man +within roping distance of any one in that bunch on a straightaway run, +and the black can run circles around the whole outfit. I had him once, +though." + +"You caught that black!" exclaimed Patches--incredulously. + +Phil grinned. "I sure had him for a little while." + +"But what is he doing out here running loose, then?" demanded the other. +"Got away, did he?" + +"Got away, nothing. Fact is, he belongs to me right now, in a way, and I +wouldn't swap him for any string of cow-horses that I ever saw." + +Then, as they rode toward the home ranch, Phil told the story that is +known throughout all that country. + +"It was when the black was a yearling," he said. "I'd had my eye on him +all the year, and so had some of the other boys who had sighted the +band, for you could see, even when he was a colt, what he was going to +be. The wild horses were getting rather too numerous that season, and we +planned a chase to thin them out a little, as we do every two or three +years. Of course, everybody was after the black; and one day, along +toward the end of the chase, when the different bands had been broken up +and scattered pretty much, I ran onto him. I was trailing an old gray up +that draw--the way we went to-day, you know, and all at once I met him +as he was coming over the top of the hill, right where you and I rode +onto him. It was all so sudden that for a minute he was rattled as bad +as I was; and, believe me, I was shaking like a leaf. I managed to come +to, first, though, and hung my rope on him before he could get started. +I don't know to this day where the old gray that I was after went. Well, +sir; he fought like a devil, and for a spell we had it around and around +until I wasn't dead sure whether I had him or he had me. But he was only +a yearling then, you see, and I finally got him down." + +Phil paused, a peculiar expression on his face. Patches waited silently. + +"Do you know," said the cowboy, at last, hesitatingly, "I can't explain +it--and I don't talk about it much, for it was the strangest thing that +ever happened to me--but when I looked into that black stallion's eyes, +and he looked me straight in the face, I never felt so sorry for +anything in my life. I was sort of ashamed like--like--well, like I'd +been caught holding up a church, you know, or something like that. We +were all alone up there, just him and me, and while I was getting my +wind, and we were sizing each other up, and I was feeling that way, I +got to thinking what it all meant to him--to be broken and +educated--and--well--civilized, you know; and I thought what a horse he +would be if he was left alone to live as God made him, and so--well--" +He paused again with an embarrassed laugh. + +"You let him go?" cried Patches. + +"It's God's truth, Patches. I couldn't do anything else--I just +couldn't. One of the boys came up just in time to catch me turning him +loose, and, of course, the whole outfit just naturally raised hell about +it. You see, in a chase like that, we always bunch all we get and sell +them off to the highest bidder, and every man in the outfit shares +alike. The boys figured that the black was worth more than any five +others that were caught, and so you couldn't blame them for feeling +sore. But I fixed it with them by turning all my share into the pot, so +they couldn't kick. That, you see, makes the black belong to me, in a +way, and it's pretty generally understood that I propose to take care of +him. There was a fellow, riding in the rodeo last fall, that took a shot +at him one day, and--well--he left the country right after it happened +and hasn't been seen around here since." + +The cowboy grinned as his companion's laugh rang out. + +"Do you know," Phil continued in a low tone, a few minutes later, "I +believe that horse knows me yet. Whenever I am over in this part of the +country I always have a look at him, if he happens to be around, and we +visit a little, as we did to-day. I've got a funny notion that he likes +it as much as I do, and, I can't tell how it is, but it sort of makes me +feel good all over just to see him. I reckon you think I'm some fool," +he finished with another short laugh of embarrassment, "but that's the +way I feel--and that's why they call me 'Wild Horse Phil'." + +For a little they rode in silence; then Patches spoke, gravely, "I don't +know how to tell you what I think, Phil, but I understand, and from the +bottom of my heart I envy you." + +And the cowboy, looking at his companion, saw in the man's eyes +something that reminded him of that which he had seen in the wild +horse's eyes, that day when he had set him free. Had Patches, too, at +some time in those days that were gone, been caught by the riata of +circumstance or environment, and in some degree robbed of his +God-inheritance? Phil smiled at the fancy, but, smiling, felt its truth; +and with genuine sympathy felt this also to be true, that the man might +yet, by the strength that was deepest within him, regain that which he +had lost. + +And so that day, as the man from the ranges and the man from the cities +rode together, the feeling of kinship that each had instinctively +recognized at their first meeting on the Divide was strengthened. They +knew that a mutual understanding which could not have been put into +words of any tongue or land was drawing them closer together. + +A few days later the incident occurred that fixed their friendship--as +they thought--for all time to come. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE TAILHOLT MOUNTAIN OUTFIT. + + +Phil and Patches were riding that day in the country about Old Camp. +Early in the afternoon, they heard the persistent bawling of a calf, and +upon riding toward the sound, found the animal deep in the cedar timber, +which in that section thickly covers the ridges. The calf was freshly +branded with the Tailholt iron. It was done, Phil said, the day before, +probably in the late afternoon. The youngster was calling for his +mother. + +"It's strange, she is not around somewhere," said Patches. + +"It would be more strange if she was," retorted the cowboy shortly, and +he looked from the calf to the distant Tailholt Mountain, as though he +were considering some problem which he did not, for some reason, care to +share with his companion. + +"There's not much use to look for her," he added, with grim +disappointment. "That's always the way. If we had ridden this range +yesterday, instead of away over there in the Mint Wash country--I am +always about a day behind." + +There was something in the manner and in the quiet speech of the usually +sunny-tempered foreman that made his companion hesitate to ask +questions, or to offer comment with the freedom that he had learned to +feel that first day of their riding together. During the hours that +followed Phil said very little, and when he did speak his words were +brief and often curt, while, to Patches, he seemed to study the country +over which they rode with unusual care. When they had eaten their rather +gloomy lunch, he was in the saddle again almost before Patches had +finished, with seemingly no inclination for their usual talk. + +The afternoon, was nearly gone, and they were making their way homeward +when they saw a Cross-Triangle bull that had evidently been hurt in a +fight. The animal was one of the Dean's much-prized Herefords, and the +wound needed attention. + +"We've got to dope that," said Phil, "or the screwworms will be working +in it sure." He was taking down his riata and watching the bull, who was +rumbling a sullen, deep-voiced challenge, as he spoke. + +"Can I help?" asked Patches anxiously, as he viewed the powerful beast, +for this was the first full-grown animal needing attention that he had +seen in his few days' experience. + +"No," returned Phil. "Just keep in the clear, that's all. This chap is +no calf, and he's sore over his scrap. He's on the prod right now." + +It all happened in a few seconds. + +The cowboy's horse, understanding from long experience that this +threatening mark for his master's riata was in no gentle frame of mind, +fretted uneasily as though dreading his part in the task before them. +Patches saw the whirling rope leave Phil's hand, and saw it tighten, as +the cowboy threw the weight of his horse against it; and then he caught +a confused vision--a fallen, struggling horse with a man pinned to the +ground beneath him, and a wickedly lowered head, with sharp horns and +angry eyes, charging straight at them. + +Patches did not think--there was no time to think. With a yell of +horror, he struck deep with both spurs, and his startled, pain-maddened +horse leaped forward. Again he spurred cruelly with all his strength, +and the next bound of his frenzied mount carried him upon those deadly +horns. Patches remembered hearing a sickening rip, and a scream of fear +and pain, as he felt the horse under him rise in the air. He never knew +how he managed to free himself, as he fell backward with his struggling +mount, but he distinctly saw Phil regain his saddle while his horse was +in the very act of struggling to its feet, and he watched with anxious +interest as the cowboy forced his excited mount in front of the bull to +attract the beast's wicked attention. The bull, accepting the +tantalizing challenge, charged again, and Patches, with a thrill of +admiration for the man's coolness and skill, saw that Phil was coiling +his riata, even while his frightened horse, with terrific leaps, avoided +those menacing horns. The bull stopped, shook his head in anger over his +failure, and looked back toward the man on foot. But again that horse +and rider danced temptingly before him, so close that it seemed he +could not fail, and again he charged, only to find that his mad rush +carried him still further from the helpless Patches. And by now, Phil +had recovered his riata, and the loop was whirling in easy circles about +his head. The cow-horse, as though feeling the security that was in that +familiar motion of his master's arm, steadied himself, and, in the few +active moments that followed, obedient to every signal of his rider, did +his part with almost human intelligence. + +When the bull was safely tied, Phil went to the frightfully injured +horse, and with a merciful bullet ended the animal's suffering. Then he +looked thoughtfully at Patches, who stood gazing ruefully at the dead +animal, as though he felt himself to blame for the loss of his +employer's property. A slight smile lightened the cowboy's face, as he +noticed his companion's troubled thought. + +"I suppose I've done it now," said Patches, as though expecting +well-merited censure. + +Phil's smile broadened. "You sure have," he returned, as he wiped the +sweat from his face. "I'm much obliged to you." + +Patches looked at him in confused embarrassment. + +"Don't you know that you saved my life?" asked Phil dryly. + +"But--but, I killed a good horse for the Dean," stammered Patches. + +To which the Dean's foreman returned with a grin, "I reckon Uncle Will +can stand the loss--considering." + +This relieved the tension, and they laughed together. + +"But tell me something, Patches," said Phil, curiously. "Why didn't you +shoot the bull when he charged me?" + +"I didn't think of it," admitted Patches. "I didn't really think of +anything." + +The cowboy nodded with understanding approval. "I've noticed that the +man to tie to, in sudden trouble, is the man who doesn't have to think; +the man, I mean, who just does the right thing instinctively, and waits +to think about it afterwards when there's time." + +Patches was pleased. "I did the right thing, then?" + +"It was the only thing you _could_ do to save my life," returned Phil +seriously. "If you had tried to use your gun--even if you could have +managed to hit him--you wouldn't have stopped him in time. If you had +been where you could have put a bullet between his eyes, it might have +worked, but"--he smiled again--"I'm mighty glad you didn't think to try +any experiments. Tell me something else," he added. "Did you realize the +chance you were taking for yourself?" + +Patches shook his head. "I can't say that I realized anything except +that you were in a bad fix, and that it was up to me to do something +quick. How did it happen, anyway?" He seemed anxious to turn the +conversation. + +"Diamond stepped in that hole there," explained Phil. "When he turned +over I sure thought it was all day for me. Believe me, I won't forget +this, Patches." + +For another moment there was an embarrassed silence; then Patches said, +"What puzzles me is, why you didn't take a shot at him, after you were +up, instead of risking your neck again trying to rope him." + +"Why, there was no use killing a good bull, as long as there was any +other way. It's my business to keep him alive; that's what I started in +to do, wasn't it?" And thus the cowboy, in a simple word or two, stated +the creed of his profession, a creed that permits no consideration of +personal danger or discomfort when the welfare of the employer's +property is at stake. + +When they had removed saddle and bridle from the dead horse and had +cleaned the ugly wound in the bull's side, Phil said, "Now, Mr. +Honorable Patches, you'd better move on down the wash a piece, and get +out of sight behind one of those cedars. This fellow is going to get +busy again when I let him up. I'll come along when I've got rid of him." + +A little later, as Phil rode out of the cedars toward Patches, a deep, +bellowing challenge came from up the wash. + +"He's just telling us what he'll do to us the next chance he gets," +chuckled Phil. "Hop up behind me now and we'll go home." + +The gloom, that all day had seemed to overshadow Phil, was effectually +banished by the excitement of the incident, and he was again his sunny, +cheerful self. As they rode, they chatted and laughed merrily. Then, +suddenly, as it had happened that morning, the cowboy was again grim and +silent. + +Patches was wondering what had so quickly changed his companion's mood, +when he caught sight of two horsemen, riding along the top of the ridge +that forms the western side of the wash, their course paralleling that +of the Cross-Triangle men, who were following the bed of the wash. + +When Patches directed Phil's attention to the riders, the cowboy said +shortly, "I've been watching them for the last ten minutes." Then, as if +regretting the manner of his reply, he added more kindly, "If they keep +on the way they're going, we'll likely meet them about a mile down the +wash where the ridge breaks." + +"Do you know them?" asked Patches curiously. + +"It's Nick Cambert and that poor, lost dog of a Yavapai Joe," Phil +answered. + +"The Tailholt Mountain outfit," murmured Patches, watching the riders on +the ridge with quickened interest. "Do you know, Phil, I believe I have +seen those fellows before." + +"You have!" exclaimed Phil. "Where? When?" + +"I don't know how to tell you where," Patches replied, "but it was the +day I rode the drift fence. They were on a ridge, across a little valley +from me." + +"That must have been this same Horse Wash that we're following now," +replied Phil; "it widens out a bit below here. What makes you think it +was Nick and Joe?" + +"Why, those fellows up there look like the two that I saw, one big one +and one rather lightweight. They were the same distance from me, you +know, and--yes--I am sure those are the same horses." + +"Pretty good, Patches, but you ought to have reported it when you got +home." + +"Why, I didn't think it of any importance." + +"There are two rules that you must follow, always," said the cowboy, "if +you are going to learn to be a top hand in this business. The first is: +to see everything that there is to see, and to see everything about +everything that you see. And the second is: to remember it all. I don't +mind telling you, now, that Jim Reid found a calf, fresh-branded with +the Tailholt iron, that same afternoon, in that same neighborhood; and +that, on our side of the drift fence, he ran onto a Cross-Triangle cow +that had lost her calf. There come our friends now." + +The two horsemen were riding down the side of the hill at an angle that +would bring about the meeting which Phil had foreseen. And Patches +immediately broke the first of the two rules, for, while watching the +riders, he did not notice that his companion loosened his gun in its +holster. + +Nick Cambert was a large man, big-bodied and heavy, with sandy hair, and +those peculiar light blue eyes which do not beget confidence. But, as +the Tailholt Mountain men halted to greet Phil, Patches gave to Nick +little more than a passing glance, so interested was he in the big man's +companion. + +It is doubtful if blood, training, environment, circumstances, the +fates, or whatever it is that gives to men individuality, ever marked a +man with less manhood than was given to poor Yavapai Joe. Standing +erect, he would have been, perhaps, a little above medium height, but +thin and stooped, with a half-starved look, as he slouched listlessly in +the saddle, it was almost impossible to think of him as a matured man. +The receding chin, and coarse, loosely opened mouth, the pale, lifeless +eyes set too closely together under a low forehead, with a ragged thatch +of dead, mouse-colored hair, and a furtive, sneaking, lost-dog +expression, proclaimed him the outcast that he was. + +The big man eyed Patches as he greeted the Cross-Triangle's foreman. +"Howdy, Phil!" + +"Hello, Nick!" returned Phil coldly. "Howdy, Joe!" + +The younger man, who was gazing stupidly at Patches, returned the +salutation with an unintelligible mumble, and proceeded to roll a +cigarette. + +"You folks at the Cross-Triangle short of horses?" asked Nick, with an +evident attempt at jocularity, alluding to the situation of the two men, +who were riding one horse. + +"We got mixed up with a bull back yonder," Phil explained briefly. + +"They can sure put a horse out o' the game mighty quick sometimes," +commented the other. "I've lost a few that way myself. It's about as far +from here to my place as it is to Baldwin's, or I'd help you out. You're +welcome, you know." + +"Much obliged," returned Phil, "but we'll make it home all right. I +reckon we'd better be moving, though. So long!" + +"Adios!" + +Throughout this brief exchange of courtesies, Yavapai Joe had not moved, +except to puff at his cigarette; nor had he ceased to regard Patches +with a stupid curiosity. As Phil and Patches moved away, he still sat +gazing after the stranger, until he was aroused by a sharp word from +Nick, as the latter turned his horse toward Tailholt Mountain. Without +changing his slouching position in the saddle, and with a final +slinking, sidewise look toward Patches, the poor fellow obediently +trailed after his master. + +Patches could not resist the impulse to turn for another look at the +wretched shadow of manhood that so interested him. + +"Well, what do you think of that pair?" asked Phil, breaking in upon his +companion's preoccupation. + +Patches shrugged his shoulders much as he had done that day of his first +experience with the screwworms; then he said quietly, "Do you mind +telling me about them, Phil?" + +"Why, there's not much to tell," returned the cowboy. "That is, there's +not much that anybody knows for certain. Nick was born in Yavapai +County. His father, old George Cambert, was one of the kind that seems +honest enough, and industrious, too, but somehow always just misses it. +They moved away to some place in Southern California when Nick was about +grown. He came back six years ago, and located over there at the foot of +Tailholt Mountain, and started his Four-Bar-M iron; and, one way or +another, he's managed to get together quite a bunch of stock. You see, +his expenses don't amount to anything, scarcely. He and Joe bach in an +old shack that somebody built years ago, and they do all the riding +themselves. Joe's not much force, but he's handier than you'd think, as +long as there's somebody around to tell him what to do, and sort of back +him up. Nick, though, can do two men's work any day in the year." + +"But it's strange that a man like Nick would have anything to do with +such a creature as that poor specimen," mused Patches. "Are they related +in any way?" + +"Nobody knows," answered Phil. "Joe first showed up at Prescott about +four years ago with a man by the name of Dryden, who claimed that Joe +was his son. They camped just outside of town, in some dirty old tents, +and lived by picking up whatever was lying around loose. Dryden wouldn't +work, and, naturally, no one would have Joe. Finally Dryden was sent up +for robbing a store, and Joe nearly went with him. They let him off, I +believe, because it was proved pretty well that he was only Dryden's +tool, and didn't have nerve enough to do any real harm by himself. He +drifted around for several months, living like a stray cur, until Nick +took him in tow. Nick treats him shamefully, abuses him like a beast, +and works him like a slave. The poor devil stays on with him because he +doesn't know what else to do, I suppose." + +"Is he always like we saw him to-day?" asked Patches, who seemed +strangely interested in this bit of human drift. "Doesn't he ever talk?" + +"Oh, yes, he'll talk all right, when Nick isn't around, or when there +are not too many present. Get off somewhere alone with him, after he +gets acquainted a little, and he's not half such bad company as he +looks. I reckon that's the main reason why Nick keeps him. You see, no +decent cow-puncher would dare work at Tailholt Mountain, and a man gets +mighty lonesome living so much alone. But Joe never talks about where he +came from, or who he is; shuts up like a clam if you so much as mention +anything that looks like you were trying to find out about him. He's not +such a fool as he looks, either, so far as that goes, but he's always +got that sneaking, coyote sort of look, and whatever he does he does in +that same way." + +"In other words," commented Patches thoughtfully, "poor Joe must have +someone to depend on; taken alone he counts no more than a cipher." + +"That's it," said Phil. "With somebody to feed him, and think for him, +and take care of him, and be responsible for him, in some sort of a way, +he makes almost one." + +"After all, Phil," said Patches, with bitter sarcasm, "poor Yavapai Joe +is not so much different from hundreds of men that I know. By their +standards he should be envied." + +Phil was amazed at his companion's words, for they seemed to hint at +something in the man's past, and Patches, so far as his reticence upon +any subject that approached his own history, was always as silent as +Yavapai Joe himself. + +"What do you mean by that?" Phil demanded. "What sort of men do you +mean?" + +"I mean the sort that never do anything of their own free wills; the +sort that have someone else to think for them, and feed them, and take +care of them and take all the responsibility for what they do or do not +do. I mean those who are dependents, and those who aspire to be +dependent. I can't see that it makes any essential difference whether +they have inherited wealth and what we call culture, or whether they are +poverty-stricken semi-imbeciles like Joe; the principle is the same." + +As they dismounted at the home corral gate, Phil looked at his companion +curiously. "You seem mighty interested in Joe," he said, with a smile. + +"I am," retorted Patches. "He reminds me of--of some one I know," he +finished, with his old, self-mocking smile. "I have a fellow feeling +for him, the same as you have for that wild horse, you know. I'd like to +take him away from Nick, and see if it would be possible to make a real +man of him," he mused, more to himself than to his companion. + +"I don't believe I'd try any experiments along that line, Patches," +cautioned Phil. "You've got to have something to build on when you start +to make a man. The raw material is not in Joe, and, besides," he added +significantly, "folks might not understand." + +Patches laughed bitterly. "I have my hands full now." + +The next morning the foreman said that he would give that day to the +horses he was training, and sent Patches, alone, after the saddle and +bridle which they had left near the scene of the accident. + +"You can't miss finding the place again," he said to Patches; "just +follow up the wash. You'll be back by noon--if you don't try any +experiments," he added laughing. + +Patches had ridden as far as the spot where he and Phil had met the +Tailholt Mountain men, and was thirsty. He thought of the distance he +had yet to go, and then of the return back to the ranch, in the heat of +the day. He remembered that Phil had told him, as they were riding out +the morning before, of a spring a little way up the small side canyon +that opens into the main wash through that break in the ridge. For a +moment he hesitated; then he turned aside, determined to find the +water. + +Riding perhaps two hundred yards into that narrow gap In the ridge, he +found the way suddenly becoming steep and roughly strewn with boulders, +and, thinking to make better time, left his horse tied to a bush in the +shadow of the rocky wall, while he climbed up the dry watercourse on +foot. He found, as Phil had said, that it was not far. Another hundred +yards up the boulder-strewn break in the ridge, and he came out into a +beautiful glade, where he found the spring, clear and cold, under a +moss-grown rock, in the deep shade of an old gnarled and twisted cedar. +Gratefully he threw himself down and drank long and deep; then sat for a +few moments' rest, before making his way back to his horse. The moist, +black earth of the cuplike hollow was roughly trampled by the cattle +that knew the spot, and there were well-marked trails leading down +through the heavy growth of brush and trees that clothed the hillsides. +So dense was this forest growth, and so narrow the glade, that the +sunlight only reached the cool retreat through a network of leaves and +branches, in ever-shifting spots and bars of brightness. Nor could one +see very far through the living screens. + +Patches was on the point of going, when he heard voices and the sound of +horses' feet somewhere above. For a moment he sat silently listening. +Then he realized that the riders were approaching, down one of the +cattle trails. A moment more, and he thought he recognized one of the +voices. There was a low, murmuring, whining tone, and then a rough, +heavy voice, raised seemingly in anger. Patches felt sure, now, that he +knew the speakers; and, obeying one of those impulses that so often +prompted his actions, he slipped quietly into the dense growth on the +side of the glade opposite the approaching riders. He was scarcely +hidden--a hundred feet or so from the spring--when Nick Cambert and +Yavapai Joe rode into the glade. + +If Patches had paused to think, he likely would have disdained to play +the part of a hidden spy; but he had acted without thinking, and no +sooner was he concealed than he realized that it was too late. So he +smiled mockingly at himself, and awaited developments. He had heard and +seen enough, since he had been in the Dean's employ, to understand the +suspicion in which the owner of the Four-Bar-M iron was held; and from +even his few days' work on the range in company with Phil, he had come +to understand how difficult it was for the cattlemen to prove anything +against the man who they had every reason to believe was stealing their +stock. It was the possibility of getting some positive evidence, and of +thus protecting his employer's property, that had really prompted him to +take advantage of the chance situation. + +As the two men appeared, it was clear to the hidden observer that the +weakling had in some way incurred his master's displeasure. The big +man's face was red with anger, and his eyes were hard and cruel, while +Joe had more than aver the look of a lost dog that expects nothing less +than a curse and a kick. + +Nick drank at the spring, then turned back to his companion, who had not +dismounted, but sat on his horse cringing and frightened, trying, with +fluttering fingers, to roll a cigarette. A moment the big man surveyed +his trembling follower; then, taking a heavy quirt from his saddle, he +said with a contemptuous sneer, "Well, why don't you get your drink?" + +"I ain't thirsty, Nick," faltered the other. + +"You ain't thirsty?" mocked the man with a jeering laugh. "You're lying, +an' you know it. Get down!" + +"Hones' to God, Nick, I don't want no drink," whimpered Joe, as his +master toyed with the quirt suggestively. + +"Get down, I tell you!" commanded the big man. + +Joe obeyed, his thin form shaking with fear, and stood shrinking against +his horse's side, his fearful eyes fixed on the man. + +"Now, come here." + +"Don't, Nick; for God's sake! don't hit me. I didn't mean no harm. Let +me off this time, won't you, Nick?" + +"Come here. You got it comin', damn you, an' you know it. Come here, I +say!" + +As if it were beyond his power to refuse, the wretched creature took a +halting step or two toward the man whose brutal will dominated him; then +he paused and half turned, as if to attempt escape. But that menacing +voice stopped him. + +"Come here!" + +Whimpering and begging, with disconnected, unintelligible words, the +poor fellow again started toward the man with the quirt. + +At the critical moment a quiet, well-schooled voice interrupted the +scene. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Cambert!" + +Nick whirled with an oath of surprise and astonishment, to face Patches, +who was coming leisurely toward him from the bushes above the spring. + +"What are you doin' here?" demanded Nick, while his victim slunk back to +his horse, his eyes fixed upon the intruder with dumb amazement. + +"I came for a drink," returned Patches coolly. "Excellent water, isn't +it? And the day is really quite warm--makes one appreciate such a +delightfully cool retreat, don't you think?" + +"Heard us comin' an' thought you'd play the spy, did you?" growled the +Tailholt Mountain man. + +Patches smiled. "Really, you know, I am afraid I didn't think much about +it," he said gently. "I'm troubled that way, you see," he explained, +with elaborate politeness. "Often do things upon impulse, don't you +know--beastly embarrassing sometimes." + +Nick glared at this polite, soft-spoken gentleman, with half-amused +anger. "I heard there was a dude tenderfoot hangin' 'round the +Cross-Triangle," he said, at last. "You're sure a hell of a fine +specimen. You've had your drink; now s'pose you get a-goin'." + +"I beg pardon?" drawled Patches, looking at him with innocent inquiry. + +"Vamoose! Get out! Go on about your business." + +"Really, Mr. Cambert, I understood that this was open range--" Patches +looked about, as though carefully assuring himself that he was not +mistaken in the spot. + +The big man's eyes narrowed wickedly. "It's closed to you, all right." +Then, as Patches did not move, "Well, are you goin', or have I got to +start you?" He took a threatening step toward the intruder. + +"No," returned Patches easily, "I am certainly not going--not just at +present--and," he added thoughtfully, "if I were you, I wouldn't try to +start _anything_." + +Something in the extraordinary self-possession of this soft-spoken +stranger made the big man hesitate. "Oh, you wouldn't, heh?" he +returned. "You mean, I s'pose, that you propose to interfere with my +business." + +"If, by your business, you mean beating a man who is so unable to +protect himself, I certainly propose to interfere." + +For a moment Nick glared at Patches as though doubting his own ears. +Then rage at the tenderfoot's insolence mastered him. With a vile +epithet, he caught the loaded quirt in his hand by its small end, and +strode toward the intruder. + +But even as the big man swung his wicked weapon aloft, a hard fist, with +the weight of a well-trained and well-developed shoulder back of it, +found the point of his chin with scientific accuracy. The force of the +blow, augmented as it was by Nick's weight as he was rushing to meet it, +was terrific. The man's head snapped back, and he spun half around as he +fell, so that the uplifted arm with its threatening weapon was twisted +under the heavy bulk that lay quivering and harmless. + +Patches coolly bent over the unconscious man and extracted his gun from +the holster. Then, stepping back a few paces, he quietly waited. + +Yavapai Joe, who had viewed the proceedings thus far with gaping mouth +and frightened wonder, scrambled into his saddle and reined his horse +about, as if to ride for his life. + +"Wait, Joe!" called Patches sharply. + +The weakling paused in pitiful indecision. + +"Nick will be all right in a few minutes," continued the stranger, +reassuringly. "Stay where you are." + +Even as he spoke, the man on the ground opened his eyes. For a moment he +gazed about, collecting his shocked and scattered senses. Then, with a +mad roar, he got to his feet and reached for his gun, but when his hand +touched the empty holster a look of dismay swept over his heavy face, +and he looked doubtfully toward Patches, with a degree of respect and a +somewhat humbled air. + +"Yes, I have your gun," said Patches soothingly. "You see, I thought it +would be best to remove the temptation. You don't really want to shoot +me, anyway, you know. You only think you do. When you have had time to +consider it all, calmly, you'll thank me; because, don't you see, I +would make you a lot more trouble dead than I could possibly, alive. I +don't think that Mr. Baldwin would like to have me all shot to pieces, +particularly if the shooting were done by someone from Tailholt +Mountain. And I am quite sure that 'Wild Horse Phil' would be very much +put out about it." + +"Well, what do you want?" growled Nick. "You've got the drop on me. What +are you after, anyway?" + +"What peculiar expressions you western people use!" murmured Patches +sweetly. "You say that I have got the drop on you; when, to be exact, +you should have said that you got the drop _from_ me--do you see? Good, +isn't it?" + +Nick's effort at self-control was heroic. + +Patches watched him with an insolent, taunting smile that goaded the man +to reckless speech. + +"If you didn't have that gun, I'd--" the big man began, then stopped, +for, as he spoke, Patches placed the weapon carefully on a rock and went +toward him barehanded. + +"You would do what?" + +At the crisp, eager question that came in such sharp contrast to +Patches' former speech, Nick hesitated and drew back a step. + +Patches promptly moved a step nearer; and his words came, now, in answer +to the unfinished threat with cutting force. "What would you do, you +big, hulking swine? You can bully a weakling not half your size; you can +beat a helpless incompetent like a dog; you can bluster, and threaten a +tenderfoot when you think he fears you; you can attack a man with a +loaded quirt when you think him unable to defend himself;--show me what +you can do _now_." + +The Tailholt Mountain man drew back another step. + +Patches continued his remarks. "You are a healthy specimen, you are. You +have the frame of a bull with the spirit of a coyote and the courage of +a sucking dove. Now--in your own vernacular--get a-goin'. Vamoose! Get +out! I want to talk to your superior over there." + +Sullenly Nick Cambert mounted his horse and turned away toward one of +the trails leading out from the little arena. + +"Come along, Joe!" he called to his follower. + +"No, you don't," Patches cut in with decisive force. "Joe, stay where +you are!" + +Nick paused. "What do you mean by that?" he growled. + +"I mean," returned Patches, "that Joe is free to go with you, or not, as +he chooses. Joe," he continued, addressing the cause of the controversy, +"you need not go with this man. If you wish, you can come with me. I'll +take care of you; and I'll give you a chance to make a man of yourself." + +Nick laughed coarsely. "So, that's your game, is it? Well, it won't +work. I know now why Bill Baldwin's got you hangin' 'round, pretendin' +you're a tenderfoot, you damned spy. Come on, Joe." He turned to ride +on; and Joe, with a slinking, sidewise look at Patches, started to +follow. + +Again Patches called, "Wait, Joe!" and his voice was almost pleading. +"Can't you understand, Joe? Come with me. Don't be a dog for any man. +Let me give you a chance. Be a man, Joe--for God's sake, be a man! Come +with me." + +"Well," growled Nick to his follower, as Patches finished, "are you +comin' or have I got to go and get you?" + +With a sickening, hangdog look Joe mumbled something and rode after his +master. + +As they disappeared up the trail, Nick called back, "I'll get you yet, +you sneakin' spy." + +"Not after you've had time to think it over," answered Patches +cheerfully. "It would interfere too much with your _real_ business. I'll +leave your gun at the gate of that old corral up the wash. Good-by, +Joe!" + +For a few moments longer the strange man stood in the glade, listening +to the vanishing sounds of their going, while that mirthless, +self-mocking smile curved his lips. + +"Poor devil!" he muttered sadly, as he turned at last to make his way +back to his horse. "Poor Joe! I know just how he feels. It's hard--it's +beastly hard to break away." + +"I'm afraid I have made trouble for you, sir," Patches said ruefully to +the Dean, as he briefly related the incident to his employer and to Phil +that afternoon. "I'm sorry; I really didn't stop to think." + +"Trouble!" retorted the Dean, his eyes twinkling approval, while Phil +laughed joyously. "Why, man, we've been prayin' for trouble with that +blamed Tailholt Mountain outfit. You're a plumb wonder, young man. But +what in thunder was you aimin' to do with that ornery Yavapai Joe, if +he'd a' took you up on your fool proposition?" + +"Really, to tell the truth," murmured Patches, "I don't exactly know. I +fancied the experiment would be interesting; and I was so sorry for the +poor chap that I--" he stopped, shamefaced, to join in the laugh. + +But, later, the Dean and Phil talked together privately, with the result +that during the days that followed, as Patches and his teacher rode the +range together, the pupil found revolver practice added to his studies. + +The art of drawing and shooting a "six-gun" with quickness and certainty +was often a useful part of the cowboy's training, Phil explained +cheerfully. "In the case, for instance, of a mixup with a bad steer, +when your horse falls, or something like that, you know." + + + + +[Illustration: Saddles] + +CHAPTER X. + +THE RODEO. + + +As the remaining weeks of the summer passed, Patches spent the days +riding the range with Phil, and, under the careful eye of that +experienced teacher, made rapid progress in the work he had chosen to +master. The man's intense desire to succeed, his quick intelligence, +with his instinct for acting without hesitation, and his reckless +disregard for personal injury, together with his splendid physical +strength, led him to a mastery of the details of a cowboy's work with +remarkable readiness. + +Occasionally the two Cross-Triangle riders saw the men from Tailholt +Mountain, sometimes merely sighting them in the distance, and, again, +meeting them face to face at some watering place or on the range. When +it happened that Nick Cambert was thus forced to keep up a show of +friendly relations with the Cross-Triangle, the few commonplaces of the +country were exchanged, but always the Tailholt Mountain man addressed +his words to Phil, and, save for surly looks, ignored the foreman's +companion. He had evidently--as Patches had said that he would--come to +realize that he could not afford to arouse the cattlemen to action +against him, as he would certainly have done, had he attempted to carry +out his threat to "get" the man who had so humiliated him. + +But Patches' strange interest in Yavapai Joe in no way lessened. Always +he had a kindly word for the poor unfortunate, and sought persistently +to win the weakling's friendship. And Phil seeing this wondered, but +held his peace. + +Frequently Kitty Reid, sometimes alone, often with the other members of +the Reid household, came across the big meadow to spend an evening at +the neighboring ranch. Sometimes Phil and Patches, stopping at the +Pot-Hook-S home ranch, at the close of the day, for a drink at the +windmill pump, would linger a while for a chat with Kitty, who would +come from the house to greet them. And now and then Kitty, out for a +ride on Midnight, would chance to meet the two Cross-Triangle men on the +range, and so would accompany them for an hour or more. + +And thus the acquaintance between Patches and the girl grew into +friendship; for Kitty loved to talk with this man of the things that +play so large a part in that life which so appealed to her; and, with +Phil's ever-ready and hearty endorsement of Patches, she felt safe in +permitting the friendship to develop. And Patches, quietly observing, +with now and then a conversational experiment--at which game he was an +adepts--came to understand, almost as well as if he had been told, +Phil's love for Kitty and her attitude toward the cowboy--her one-time +schoolmate and sweetheart. Many times when the three were together, and +the talk, guided by Kitty, led far from Phil's world, the cowboy would +sit a silent listener, until Patches would skillfully turn the current +back to the land of Granite Mountain and the life in which Phil had so +vital a part. + +In the home-life at the Cross-Triangle, too, Patches gradually came to +hold his own peculiar place. His cheerful helpfulness, and gentle, +never-failing courtesy, no less than the secret pain and sadness that +sometimes, at some chance remark, drove the light from his face and +brought that wistful look into his eyes, won Mrs. Baldwin's heart. Many +an evening under his walnut trees, with Stella and Phil and Curly and +Bob and Little Billy near, the Dean was led by the rare skill and ready +wit of Patches to open the book of his kindly philosophy, as he talked +of the years that were past. And sometimes Patches himself, yielding to +temptation offered by the Dean, would speak in such vein that the older +man came to understand that this boy, as he so often called him, had +somewhere, somehow, already experienced that Gethsemane which soon or +late--the Dean maintains--leaves its shadow upon us all. The cowboys, +for his quick and genuine appreciation of their skill and knowledge, as +well as for his unassuming courage, hearty good nature and ready laugh, +took him into their fellowship without question or reserve, while Little +Billy, loyal ever to his ideal, "Wild Horse Phil," found a large place +in his boyish heart for the tenderfoot who was so ready always to +recognize superior wisdom and authority. + +So the stranger found his place among them, and in finding it, found +also, perhaps, that which he most sorely needed. + +[Illustration:] + +When rodeo time came Patches was given a "string" of horses and, through +the hard, grilling work that followed, took his place among the riders. +There was no leisurely roaming over the range now, with only an +occasional short dash after some animal that needed the "iron" or the +"dope can;" but systematically and thoroughly the thirty or forty +cowboys covered the country--mountain and mesa and flat, and wash and +timbered ridge and rocky pass--for many miles in every direction. + +In this section of the great western cattle country, at the time of my +story, the round-ups were cooperative. Each of the several ranchers +whose cattle, marked by the owner's legally recorded brand, ranged over +a common district that was defined only by natural boundaries, was +represented in the rodeo by one or two or more of his cowboys, the +number of his riders being relative to the number of cattle marked with +his iron. This company of riders, each with from three to five saddle +horses in his string, would assemble at one of the ranches participating +in the rodeo. From this center they would work until a circle of country +within riding distance was covered, the cattle gathered and +"worked"--or, in other words, sorted--and the animals belonging to the +various owners disposed of as the representatives were instructed by +their employers. Then the rodeo would move to another ranch, and would +so continue until the entire district of many miles was covered. The +owner or the foreman of each ranch was in charge of the rodeo as long as +the riders worked in his territory. When the company moved to the next +point, this loader took his place in the ranks, and cheerfully received +his orders from some comrade, who, the day before, had been as willingly +obedient to him. There was little place in the rodeo for weak, +incompetent or untrustworthy men. Each owner, from his long experience +and knowledge of men, sent as his representatives the most skillful and +conscientious riders that he could secure. To make a top hand at a rodeo +a man needed to be, in the truest sense, a man. + +Before daylight, the horse wrangler had driven in the saddle band, and +the men, with nose bags fashioned from grain sacks, were out in the +corral to give the hard-working animals their feed of barley. The gray +quiet of the early dawn was rudely broken by the sounds of the crowding, +jostling, kicking, squealing band, mingled with the merry voices of the +men, with now and then a shout of anger or warning as the cowboys moved +here and there among their restless four-footed companions; and always, +like a deep undertone, came the sound of trampling, iron-shod hoofs. + +Before the sky had changed to crimson and gold the call sounded from the +ranch house, "Come and get it!" and laughing and joking in friendly +rivalry, the boys rushed to breakfast. It was no dainty meal of toast +and light cereals that these hardy ones demanded. But huge cuts of +fresh-killed beef, with slabs of bread, and piles of potatoes, and +stacks of hot cakes, and buckets of coffee, and whatever else the +hard-working Chinaman could lay his hands on to satisfy their needs. As +soon as each man reached the utmost limit of his capacity, he left the +table without formality, and returned to the corral, where, with riata +or persuasion, as the case demanded, he selected from his individual +string of horses his first mount for the day. + +By the time the sun was beginning to gild the summit of old Granite +Mountain's castle-like walls, and touch with glorious color the peaks of +the neighboring sentinel hills, the last rider had saddled, and the +company was mounted and ready for their foreman's word. Then to the +music of jingling spurs, tinkling bridle chains, squeaking saddle +leather, and the softer swish and rustle and flap of chaps, romals and +riatas, they rode forth, laughing and joking, still, with now and then a +roaring chorus of shouting comment or wild yells, as some half-broken +horse gave an exhibition of his prowess in a mad effort to unseat his +grinning rider. + +Soon the leader would call the name of a cowboy, known to be +particularly familiar with the country which was to be the scene of that +day's work, and telling him to take two or three or more men, as the +case might be, would direct him to ride over a certain section, +indicating the assigned territory by its natural marks of valley or flat +or wash or ridge, and designating the point where the cattle would first +be brought together. The cowboy named would rein his horse aside from +the main company, calling the men of his choice as he did so, and a +moment later with his companions would be lost to sight. A little +farther, and again the foreman would name a rider, and, telling him to +pick his men, would assign to him another section of the district to be +covered, and this cowboy, with his chosen mates, would ride away. These +smaller groups would, in their turn, separate, and thus the entire +company of riders would open out like a huge fan to sweep the +countryside. + +It was no mere pleasure canter along smoothly graded bridle paths or +well-kept country highways that these men rode. From roughest +rock-strewn mountain side and tree-clad slope, from boulder-piled +watercourse and tangled brush, they must drive in the scattered cattle. +At reckless speed, as their quarry ran and turned and dodged, they must +hesitate at nothing. Climbing to the tops of the hills, scrambling +catlike to the ragged crests of the ridges, sliding down the bluffs, +jumping deep arroyos, leaping brush and boulders, twisting, dodging +through the timber, they must go as fast as the strength and endurance +of their mounts would permit. And so, gradually, as the sun climbed +higher above the peaks and crags of Old Granite, the great living fan of +men and horses closed, the courses of the widely scattered riders +leading them, with the cattle they had found, to the given point. + +And now, the cattle, urged by the active horsemen, came streaming from +the different sections to form the herd, and the quiet of the great +range was broken by the bawling of confused and frightened calves, the +lowing of anxious mothers, the shrill, long-drawn call of the steers, +and the deep bellowing of the bulls, as the animals, so rudely driven +from their peaceful feeding grounds, moved restlessly within the circle +of guarding cowboys, while cows found their calves, and the monarchs of +the range met in fierce combat. + +A number of the men--those whose mounts most needed the rest--were now +left to hold the herd, or, perhaps, to move it quietly on to some other +point, while the others were again sent out to cover another section of +the territory included in that day's riding. As the hours passed, and +the great fan of horsemen opened and closed, sweeping the cattle +scattered over the range into the steadily growing herd, the rodeo moved +gradually toward some chosen open flat or valley that afforded a space +large enough for the operations that followed the work of gathering. At +this "rodeo ground" a man would be waiting with fresh mounts for the +riders, and, sometimes, with lunch. Quickly, those whose names were +called by the foreman would change their saddles from dripping, +exhausted horses to fresh animals from their individual strings, snatch +a hasty lunch--often to be eaten in the saddle--and then, in their turn, +would hold the cattle while their companions followed their example. + +Then came the fast, hot work of "parting" the cattle. The +representatives from one of the ranches interested would ride in among +the cattle held by the circle of cowboys, and, following their +instructions, would select such animals bearing their employer's brand +as were wanted, cutting them out and passing them through the line of +guarding riders, to be held in a separate group. When the +representatives of one owner had finished, they were followed by the men +who rode for some other outfit; and so on, until the task of "parting" +was finished. + +As the afternoon sun moved steadily toward the skyline of the western +hills, the tireless activity of men and horses continued. The cattle, +as the mounted men moved among them, drifted about, crowding and +jostling, in uneasy discontent, with sometimes an indignant protest, and +many attempts at escape by the more restless and venturesome. When an +animal was singled out, the parting horses, chosen and prized for their +quickness, dashed here and there through the herd with fierce leaps and +furious rushes, stopping short in a terrific sprint to whirl, flashlike, +and charge in another direction, as the quarry dodged and doubled. And +now and then an animal would succeed for the moment in passing the guard +line, only to be brought back after a short, sharp chase by the nearest +cowboy. From the rodeo ground, where for long years the grass had been +trampled out, the dust, lifted by the trampling thousands of hoofs in a +dense, choking cloud, and heavy with the pungent odor of warm cattle and +the smell of sweating horses, rising high into the clear air, could be +seen from miles away, while the mingled voices of the bellowing, bawling +herd, with now and then the shrill, piercing yells of the cowboys, could +be heard almost as far. + +When this part of the work was over, some of the riders set out to drive +the cattle selected to the distant home ranch corrals, while others of +the company remained to brand the calves and to start the animals that +were to have their freedom until the next rodeo time back to the open +range. And so, at last--often not until the stars were out--the riders +would dismount at the home corrals of the ranch that, at the time, was +the center of their operations, or, perhaps, at some rodeo camping +ground. + +At supper the day's work was reviewed with many a laugh and jest of +pointed comment, and then, those whose horses needed attention because +of saddle sores or, it might be, because of injuries from some fall on +the rocks, busied themselves at the corral, while others met for a +friendly game of cards, or talked and yarned over restful pipe or +cigarette. And then, bed and blankets, and, all too soon, the reveille +sounded by the beating hoofs of the saddle band as the wrangler drove +them in, announced the beginning of another day. + +Not infrequently there were accidents--from falling horses--from angry +bulls--from ill-tempered steers, or excited cows--or, perhaps, from a +carelessly handled rope in some critical moment. Horses were killed; men +with broken limbs, or with bodies bruised and crushed, were forced to +drop out; and many a strong horseman who rode forth in the morning to +the day's work, laughing and jesting with his mates, had been borne by +his grave and silent comrades to some quiet resting place, to await, in +long and dreamless sleep, the morning of that last great rodeo which, we +are told, shall gather us all. + +Day after day, as Patches rode with these hardy men, Phil watched him +finding himself and winning his place among the cowboys. They did not +fail, as they said, to "try him out." Nor did Phil, in these trials, +attempt in any way to assist his pupil. But the men learned very +quickly, as Curly had learned at the time of Patches' introduction, +that, while the new man was always ready to laugh with them when a joke +was turned against himself, there was a line beyond which it was not +well to go. In the work he was, of course, assigned only to such parts +as did not require the skill and knowledge of long training and +experience. But he did all that was given him to do with such readiness +and skill, thanks to Phil's teaching, that the men wondered. And this, +together with his evident ability in the art of defending himself, and +the story of his strange coming to the Cross-Triangle, caused not a +little talk, with many and varied opinions as to who he was, and what it +was that had brought him among them. Strangely enough, very few believed +that Patches' purpose in working as a cowboy for the Dean was simply to +earn an honest livelihood. They felt instinctively--as, in fact, did +Phil and the Dean--that there was something more beneath it all than +such a commonplace. + +Nick Cambert, who, with Yavapai Joe, rode in the rodeo, carefully +avoided the stranger. But Patches, by his persistent friendly interest +in the Tailholt Mountain man's follower, added greatly to the warmth of +the discussions and conjectures regarding himself. The rodeo had reached +the Pot-Hook-S Ranch, with Jim Reid in charge, when the incident +occurred which still further stimulated the various opinions and +suggestions as to the new man's real character and mission. + +They were working the cattle that day on the rodeo ground just outside +the home ranch corral. Phil and Curly were cutting out some +Cross-Triangle steers, when the riders, who were holding the cattle, saw +them separate a nine-months-old calf from the herd, and start it, not +toward the cattle they had already cut out, but toward the corral. + +Instantly everybody knew what had happened. + +The cowboy nearest the gate did not need Phil's word to open it for his +neighbor next in line to drive the calf inside. + +Not a word was said until the calves to be branded were also driven into +the corral. Then Phil, after a moment's talk with Jim Reid, rode up to +Nick Cambert, who was sitting on his horse a little apart from the group +of intensely interested cowboys. The Cross-Triangle foreman's tone was +curt. "I reckon I'll have to trouble you to vent your brand on that +Cross-Triangle calf, Nick." + +The Tailholt Mountain man made no shallow pretense that he did not +understand. "Not by a damn sight," he returned roughly. "I ain't raisin' +calves for Bill Baldwin, an' I happen to know what I'm talkin' about +this trip. That's a Four-Bar-M calf, an' I branded him myself over in +Horse Wash before he left the cow. Some of your punchers are too damned +handy with their runnin' irons, Mr. Wild Horse Phil." + +For a moment Phil looked at the man, while Jim Reid moved his horse +nearer, and the cowboys waited, breathlessly. Then, without taking his +eyes from the Tailholt Mountain man's face, Phil called sharply: + +"Patches, come here!" + +There was a sudden movement among the riders, and a subdued murmur, as +Patches rode forward. + +"Is that calf you told me about in the corral, Patches?" asked Phil, +when the man was beside him. + +"Yes, sir; that's him over there by that brindle cow." Patches indicated +the animal in question. + +"And you put our iron on him?" asked Phil, still watching Nick. + +"I did," returned Patches, coolly. + +"Tell us about it," directed the Dean's foreman. + +And Patches obeyed, briefly. "It was that day you sent me to fix the +fence on the southwest corner of the big pasture. I saw a bunch of +cattle a little way outside the fence, and went to look them over. This +calf was following a Cross-Triangle cow." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Yes, sir. I watched them for half an hour." + +"What was in the bunch?" + +"Four steers, a Pot-Hook-S bull, five cows and this calf. There were +three Five-Bar cows, one Diamond-and-a-Half and one Cross-Triangle. The +calf went to the Cross-Triangle cow every time. And, besides, he is +marked just like his mother. I saw her again this afternoon while we +were working the cattle." + +Phil nodded. "I know her." + +Jim Reid was watching Patches keenly, with a quiet look now and then at +Nick. + +The cowboys were murmuring among themselves. + +"Pretty good work for a tenderfoot!" + +"Tenderfoot, hell!" + +"They've got Nick this trip." + +"Got nothin'! Can't you see it's a frame-up?" + +Phil spoke to Nick. "Well, are satisfied? Will you vent your brand?" + +The big man's face was distorted with passion. "Vent nothin'," he +roared. "On the word of a damned sneakin' tenderfoot! I--" + +He stopped, as Patches, before Phil could check the movement, pushed +close to his side. + +In the sudden stillness the new man's cool, deliberate voice sounded +clearly. "I am positive that you made a mistake when you put your iron +on that calf, Mr. Cambert. And," he added slowly, as though with the +kindest possible intention, "I am sure that you can safely take my word +for it without further question." + +For a moment Nick glared at Patches, speechless. Then, to the amazement +of every cowboy in the corral, the big man mumbled a surly something, +and took down his riata to rope the calf and disclaim his ownership of +the animal. + +Jim Reid shook his head in puzzled doubt. + +The cowboys were clearly divided. + +"He's too good a hand for a tenderfoot," argued one; "carried that off +like an old-timer." + +"'Tain't like Nick to lay down so easy for anybody," added another. + +"Nick's on to something about Mr. Patches that we ain't next to," +insisted a third. + +"Or else we're all bein' strung for a bunch of suckers," offered still +another. + +"You boys just hold your horses, an' ride easy," said Curly. "My money's +still on Honorable Patches." + +And Bob added his loyal support with his cheerful "Me, too!" + +"It all looked straight enough," Jim Reid admitted to the Dean that +evening, "but I can't get away from the notion that there was some sort +of an understanding between your man an' that damned Tailholt Mountain +thief. It looked like it was all too quiet an' easy somehow; like it had +been planned beforehand." + +The Dean laughingly told his neighbor that he was right; that there was +an understanding between Patches and Nick, and then explained by +relating how Patches had met the Tailholt Mountain men that day at the +spring. + +When the Dean had finished the big cowman asked several very suggestive +questions. How did the Dean know that Patches' story was anything more +than a cleverly arranged tale, invented for the express purpose of +allaying any suspicion as to his true relationship with Nick? If +Patches' character was so far above suspicion, why did he always dodge +any talk that might touch his past? Was it necessary or usual for men to +keep so close-mouthed about themselves? What did the Dean, or anyone +else, for that matter, really know about this man who had appeared so +strangely from nowhere, and had given a name even that was so plainly a +ridiculous invention? The Dean must remember that the suspicion as to +the source of Nick's too rapidly increasing herds had, so far, been +directed wholly against Nick himself, and that the owner of the +Four-Bar-M iron was not altogether a fool. It was quite time, Reid +argued, for Nick to cease his personal activities, and to trust the +actual work of branding to some confederate whose movements would not be +so closely questioned. In short, Reid had been expecting some stranger +to seek a job with some of the ranches that were in a position to +contribute to the Tailholt Mountain outfit, and, for his part, he would +await developments before becoming too enthusiastic over Honorable +Patches. + +All of which the good Dean found very hard to answer. + +"But look here, Jim," he protested, "don't you go makin' it unpleasant +for the boy. Whatever you think, you don't know any more than the rest +of us. If we're guessin' on one side, you're guessin' on the other. I +admit that what you say sounds reasonable; but, hang it, I like Patches. +As for his name--well--we didn't use to go so much on names, in this +country, you know. The boy may have some good reason for not talkin' +about himself. Just give him a square chance; don't put no burrs under +his saddle blanket--that's all I'm askin'." + +Jim laughed. The speech was so characteristic of the Dean, and Jim Reid +loved his old friend and neighbor, as all men did, for being, as was +commonly said, "so easy." + +"Don't worry, Will," he answered. "I'm not goin' to start anything. If I +should happen to be right about Mr. Honorable Patches, he's exactly +where we want him. I propose to keep my eye on him, that's all. And I +think you an' Phil had better do the same." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +AFTER THE RODEO. + + +As the fall rodeo swept on its way over the wide ranges, the last +reluctant bits of summer passed, and hints of the coming winter began to +appear The yellow glory of the goldenrod, and the gorgeous banks of +color on sunflower flats faded to earthy russet and brown; the white +cups of the Jimson weed were broken and lost; the dainty pepper-grass, +the thin-leafed grama-grass, and the heavier bladed bear-grass of the +great pasture lands were dry and tawny; and the broom-weed that had +tufted the rolling hills with brighter green, at the touch of the first +frost, turned a dull and somber gray; while the varied beauties of the +valley meadows became even as the dead and withered leaves of the Dean's +walnut trees that, in falling, left the widespread limbs and branches so +bare. + +Then the rodeo and the shipping were over; the weeks of the late fall +range riding were past--and it was winter. + +From skyline to skyline the world was white, save for the dark pines +upon the mountain sides, the brighter cedars and junipers upon the hills +and ridges, and the living green of the oak brush, that, when all else +was covered with snow, gave the cattle their winter feed. + +More than ever, now, with the passing of the summer and fall, Kitty +longed for the stirring life that, in some measure, had won her from the +scenes of her home and from her homeland friends. The young woman's +friendship with Patches--made easy by the fact that the Baldwins had +taken him so wholly into their hearts--served to keep alive her memories +of that world to which she was sure he belonged, and such memories did +not tend to make Kitty more contented and happy in Williamson Valley. + +Toward Phil, Kitty was unchanged. Many times her heart called for him so +insistently that she wished she had never learned to know any life other +than that life to which they had both been born. If only she had not +spent those years away from home--she often told herself--it would all +have been so different. She could have been happy with Phil--very +happy--if only she had remained in his world. But now--now she was +afraid--afraid for him as well as for herself. Her friendship with +Patches had, in so many ways, emphasized the things that stood between +her and the man whom, had it not been for her education, she would have +accepted so gladly as her mate. + +Many times when the three were together, and Kitty had led the talk far +from the life with which the cowboy was familiar, the young woman was +forced, against the wish of her heart, to make comparisons. Kitty did +not understand that Phil--unaccustomed to speaking of things outside his +work and the life interests of his associates, and timid always in +expressing his own thoughts--found it very hard to reveal the real +wealth of his mind to her when she assumed so readily that he knew +nothing beyond his horses and cattle. But Patches, to whom Phil had +learned to speak with little reserve, understood. And, knowing that the +wall which the girl felt separated her from the cowboy was built almost +wholly of her own assumptions, Patches never lost an opportunity to help +the young woman to a fuller acquaintance with the man whom she thought +she had known since childhood. + +During the long winter months, many an evening at the Cross-Triangle, at +the Reid home, or, perhaps, at some neighborhood party or dance, +afforded Kitty opportunities for a fuller understanding of Phil, but +resulted only in establishing a closer friendship with Patches. + +Then came the spring. + +The snow melted; the rains fell; the washes and creek channels were +filled with roaring floods; hill and ridge and mountain slope and mesa +awoke to the new life that was swelling in every branch and leaf and +blade; the beauties of the valley meadow appeared again in fresh and +fragrant loveliness; while from fence-post and bush and grassy bank and +new-leaved tree the larks and mocking birds and doves voiced their glad +return. + +And, with the spring, came a guest to the Cross-Triangle Ranch--another +stranger. + +Patches had been riding the drift fence, and, as he made his way toward +the home ranch, in the late afternoon, he looked a very different man +from the Patches who, several months before, had been rescued by Kitty +from a humiliating experience with that same fence. + +The fact that he was now riding Stranger, the big bay with the blazed +face, more than anything else, perhaps, marked the change that had come +to the man whom the horse had so viciously tested, on that day when they +began together their education and work on the Cross-Triangle Ranch. + +No one meeting the cowboy, who handled his powerful and wild spirited +mount with such easy confidence and skill, would have identified him +with the white-faced, well-tailored gentleman whom Phil had met on the +Divide. The months of active outdoor life had given his tall body a +lithe and supple strength that was revealed in his every movement, while +wind and sun had stained his skin that deep tan which marks those who +must face the elements every waking hour. Prom tinkling bridle chain and +jingling spur, to the coiled riata, his equipment showed the +unmistakable marks of use. His fringed chaps, shaped, by many a day in +the saddle, to his long legs, expressed experience, while his broad hat, +soiled by sweat and dust, had acquired individuality, and his very +jumper--once blue but now faded and patched--disclaimed the tenderfoot. + +Riding for a little way along the top of the ridge that forms the +western edge of the valley, Patches looked down upon the red roofs of +the buildings of the home ranch, and smiled as he thought of the welcome +that awaited him there at the close of his day's work. The Dean and +Stella, with Little Billy, and Phil, and the others of the home circle, +had grown very dear to this strong man of whom they still knew nothing; +and great as was the change in his outward appearance and manner, the +man himself knew that there were other changes as great. Honorable +Patches had not only acquired a name and a profession, but in acquiring +them he had gained something of much greater worth to himself. And so he +was grateful to those who, taking him on trust, had helped him more than +they knew. + +He had left the ridge, and was half way across the flat toward the +corrals, when Little Billy, spurring old Sheep in desperate energy, rode +wildly out to meet him. + +As the lad approached, he greeted his big friend with shrill, boyish +shouts, and Patches answered with a cowboy yell which did credit to his +training, while Stranger, with a wild, preliminary bound into the air, +proceeded, with many weird contortions, to give an exhibition which +fairly expressed his sentiments. + +Little Billy grinned with delight. "Yip! Yip! Yee-e-e!" he shrilled, for +Stranger's benefit. And then, as the big horse continued his +manifestations, the lad added the cowboy's encouraging admonition to the +rider. "Stay with him, Patches! Stay with him!" + +Patches laughingly stayed with him. "What you aimin' to do, pardner"--he +asked good-naturedly, when Stranger at last consented to keep two feet +on the ground at the same time--"tryin' to get me piled?" + +"Shucks!" retorted the youngster admiringly. "I don't reckon anything +could pile you, _now_. I come out to tell you that we got company," he +added, as, side by side, they rode on toward the corrals. + +Patches was properly surprised. "Company!" he exclaimed. + +Little Billy grinned proudly. "Yep. He's a man--from way back East +somewhere. Uncle Will brought him out from town. They got here just +after dinner. I don't guess he's ever seen a ranch before. Gee! but +won't we have fun with him!" + +Patches face was grave as he listened. "How do you know he is from the +East, Billy?" he asked, concealing his anxious interest with a smile at +his little comrade. + +"Heard Uncle Will tell Phil and Kitty." + +"Oh, Kitty is at the house, too, is she?" + +Billy giggled. "She an' Phil's been off somewheres ridin' together most +all day; they just got back a while ago. They was talkin' with the +company when I left. Phil saw you when you was back there on the ridge, +an' I come on out to tell you." + +Phil and Kitty were walking toward their horses, which were standing +near the corral fence, as Patches and Little Billy came through the +gate. + +The boy dropped from his saddle, and ran on into the house to tell his +Aunt Stella that Patches had come, leaving Sheep to be looked after by +whoever volunteered for the service. It was one of Little Billy's +humiliations that he was not yet tall enough to saddle or bridle his own +horse, and the men tactfully saw to it that his mount was always ready +in the morning, and properly released at night, without any embarrassing +comments on the subject. + +Patches checked his horse, and without dismounting greeted his friends. +"You're not going?" he said to Kitty, with a note of protest in his +voice. "I haven't seen you for a week. It's not fair for Phil to take +advantage of his position and send me off somewhere alone while he +spends his time riding over the country with you." + +They laughed up at him as he sat there on the big bay, hat in hand, +looking down into their upturned faces with the intimate, friendly +interest of an older brother. + +Patches noticed that Kitty's eyes were bright with excitement, and that +Phil's were twinkling with suppressed merriment. + +"I must go, Patches," said the young woman. "I ought to have gone two +hours ago; but I was so interested that the time slipped away before I +realized." + +"We have company," explained Phil, looking at Patches and deliberately +closing one eye--the one that Kitty could not see. "A distinguished +guest, if you please. I'll loan you a clean shirt for supper; that is, +if mother lets you eat at the same table with him." + +"Phil, how can you!" protested Kitty. + +The two men laughed, but Phil fancied that there was a hint of anxiety +in Patches' face, as the man on the horse said, "Little Billy broke the +news to me. Who is he?" + +"A friend of Judge Morris in Prescott," answered Phil. "The Judge asked +Uncle Will to take him on the ranch for a while. He and the Judge +were--" + +Kitty interrupted with enthusiasm. "It is Professor Parkhill, Patches, +the famous professor of aesthetics, you know: Everard Charles Parkhill. +And he's going to spend the summer in Williamson Valley! Isn't it +wonderful!" + +Phil saw a look of relief in his friend's face as Patches answered Kitty +with sympathetic interest. "It certainly will be a great pleasure, Miss +Reid, especially for you, to have one so distinguished for his +scholarship in the neighborhood. Is Professor Parkhill visiting Arizona +for his health?" + +Something in Patches' voice caused Phil to turn hastily aside. + +But Kitty, who was thinking how perfectly Patches understood her, +noticed nothing in his grave tones save his usual courteous deference. + +"Partly because of his health," she answered, "but he is going to +prepare a series of lectures, I understand. He says that in the crude +and uncultivated mentalities of our--" + +"Here he is now," interrupted Phil, as the distinguished guest of the +Cross-Triangle appeared, coming slowly toward them. + +Professor Everard Charles Parkhill looked the part to which, from his +birth, he had been assigned by his over-cultured parents. His slender +body, with its narrow shoulders and sunken chest, frail as it was, +seemed almost too heavy for his feeble legs. His thin face, bloodless +and sallow, with a sparse, daintily trimmed beard and weak watery eyes, +was characterized by a solemn and portentous gravity, as though, +realizing fully the profound importance of his mission in life, he could +permit no trivial thought to enter his bald, domelike head. One knew +instinctively that in all the forty-five or fifty years of his little +life no happiness or joy that had not been scientifically sterilized and +certified had ever been permitted to stain his super-aesthetic soul. + +As he came forward, he gazed at the long-limbed man on the big bay horse +with a curious eagerness, as though he were considering a strange and +interesting creature that could scarcely be held to belong to the human +race. + +"Professor Parkhill," said Phil coolly, "you were saying that you had +never seen a genuine cowboy in his native haunt. Permit me to introduce +a typical specimen, Mr. Honorable Patches. Patches, this is Professor +Parkhill." + +"Phil," murmured Kitty, "how can you?" + +The Professor was gazing at Patches as though fascinated. And Patches, +his weather-beaten face as grave as the face of a wooden Indian, stared +back at the Professor with a blank, open-mouthed and wild-eyed +expression of rustic wonder that convulsed Phil and made Kitty turn away +to hide a smile. + +"Howdy! Proud to meet up with you, mister," drawled the typical specimen +of the genus cowboy. And then, as though suddenly remembering his +manners, he leaped to the ground and strode awkwardly forward, one hand +outstretched in greeting, the other holding fast to Stranger's bridle +rein, while the horse danced and plunged about with reckless +indifference to the polite intentions of his master. + +The Professor backed fearfully away from the dangerous looking horse and +the equally formidable-appearing cowboy. Whereat Patches addressed +Stranger with a roar of savage wrath. + +"Whoa! You consarned, square-headed, stiff-legged, squint-eyed, +lop-eared, four-flusher, you. Whoa, I tell you! Cain't you see I'm +a-wantin' to shake hands with this here man what the boss has interduced +me to?" + +Phil nearly choked. Kitty was looking unutterable things. They did not +know that Patches was suffering from a reaction caused by the discovery +that he had never before met Professor Parkhill. + +"You see, mister," he explained gravely, advancing again with Stranger +following nervously, "this here fool horse ain't used to strangers, no +how, 'specially them as don't look, as you might say, just natural +like." He finished with a sheepish grin, as he grasped the visitor's +soft little hand and pumped it up and down with virile energy. Then, +staring with bucolic wonder at the distinguished representative of the +highest culture, he asked, "Be you an honest-to-God professor? I've +heard about such, but I ain't never seen one before." + +The little man replied hurriedly, but with timid pride, "Certainly, sir; +yes, certainly." + +"You be!" exclaimed the cowboy, as though overcome by his nearness to +such dignity. "Excuse me askin', but if you don't mind, now--what be you +professor of?" + +The other answered with more courage, as though his soul found strength +in the very word: "Aesthetics." + +The cowboy's jaw dropped, his mouth opened in gaping awe, and he looked +from the professor to Phil and Kitty, as if silently appealing to them +to verify this startling thing which he had heard. "You don't say!" he +murmured at last in innocent admiration. "Well, now, to think of a +little feller like you a-bein' all that! But jest what be them there +esteticks what you're professor of--if you don't mind my askin'?" + +The distinguished scholar answered promptly, in his best platform voice, +"The science or doctrine of the nature of beauty and of judgments of +tastes." + +At this, Stranger, with a snort of fear, stood straight up on his hind +legs, and Professor Parkhill scuttled to a position of safety behind +Phil. + +"Excuse me, folks," said Patches. "I'm just naturally obliged to 'tend +to this here thing what thinks he's a hoss. Come along, you ornery, +pigeon-toed, knock-kneed, sway-backed, wooly-haired excuse, you. You +ain't got no more manners 'n a measly coyote." + +The famous professor of aesthetics stood with Phil and Kitty watching +Patches as that gentleman relieved the dancing bay of the saddle, and +led him away through the corrals to the gate leading into the meadow +pasture. + +"I beg pardon," murmured the visitor in his thin, little voice, "but +what did I understand you to say is the fellow's name?" + +"Patches; Honorable Patches," answered Phil. + +"How strange! how extraordinarily strange! I should be very interested +to know something of his ancestry, and, if possible, to trace the +origin of such a peculiar name." + +Phil replied with exaggerated concern. "For heaven's sake, sir, don't +say anything about the man's name in his hearing." + +"He--he is dangerous, you mean?" + +"He is, if he thinks anyone is making light of his name. You should ask +some of the boys who have tried it." + +"But I--I assure you, Mr. Acton, I had no thought of ridicule--far from +it. Oh, very far from it." + +Kitty was obliged to turn away. She arrived at the corral in time to +meet Patches, who was returning. + +"You ought to be ashamed," she scolded. But in spite of herself her eyes +were laughing. + +"Yes, ma'am," said Patches meekly, hat in hand. + +"How could you do such a thing?" she demanded. + +"How could I help doing it?" + +"How could you help it?" + +"Yes. You saw how he looked at me. Really, Miss Reid, I couldn't bear to +disappoint him so cruelly. Honestly, now, wasn't I exactly what he +expected me to be? I think you should compliment me. Didn't I do it very +well?" + +"But, he'll think you're nothing but a cowboy," she protested. + +"Fine!" retorted Patches, quickly. "I thank you, Miss Reid; that is +really the most satisfactory compliment I have ever received." + +"You're mocking me now," said Kitty, puzzled by his manner. + +"Indeed, I am not. I am very serious," he returned. "But here he comes +again. With your gracious permission, I'll make my exit. Please don't +explain to the professor. It would humiliate me, and think how it would +shock and disappoint him!" + +Lifting his saddle from the ground and starting toward the shed, he said +in a louder tone, "Sure, I won't ferget, Miss Kitty; an' you kin tell +your paw that there baldfaced steer o' his'n, what give us the slip last +rodeo time, is over in our big pasture. I sure seen him thar to-day." + +During the days immediately following that first meeting, Kitty passed +many hours with Professor Parkhill. Phil and his cowboys were busy +preparing for the spring rodeo. Mrs. Baldwin was wholly occupied with +ministering to the animal comforts of her earthly household. And the +Dean, always courteous and kind to his guest, managed, nevertheless, to +think of some pressing business that demanded his immediate and personal +attention whenever the visitor sought to engage him in conversation. The +professor, quite naturally holding the cattleman to be but a rude, +illiterate and wholly materialistic creature, but little superior in +intellectual and spiritual powers to his own beasts, sought merely to +investigate the Dean's mental works, with as little regard for the +Dean's feelings as a biologist would show toward a hug. The Dean +confided to Phil and Patches, one day when he had escaped to the +blacksmith shop where the men were shoeing their horses, that the +professor was harmlessly insane. "Just think," he exploded, "of the +poor, little fool livin' in Chicago for three years, an' never once +goin' out to the stockyards even!" + +It remained, therefore, for Kitty--the only worshiper of the professor's +gods in Williamson Valley--to supply that companionship which seems so +necessary even to those whose souls are so far removed from material +wants. In short, as Little Billy put it, with a boy's irreverence, +"Kitty rode herd on the professor." And, strangely enough to them all, +Kitty seemed to like the job. + +Either because her friendship with Patches--which had some to mean a +great deal to Kitty--outweighed her respect and admiration for the +distinguished object of his fun, or because she waited for some +opportunity to make the revelation a punishment to the offender, the +young woman did not betray the real character of the cowboy to the +stranger. And the professor, thanks to Phil's warning, not only +refrained from investigating the name of Patches, but carefully avoided +Patches himself. In the meantime, the "typical specimen" was forced to +take a small part in the table talk lest he betray himself. So marked +was this that Mrs. Baldwin one day, not understanding, openly chided him +for being so "glum." Whereupon the Dean--to whom Phil had thoughtfully +explained--teased the deceiver unmercifully, with many laughingly +alleged reasons for his "grouch," while Curly and Bob, attributing their +comrade's manner to the embarrassing presence of the stranger, grinned +sympathetically; and the professor himself--unconsciously agreeing with +the cowboys--with kindly condescension tried to make the victim of his +august superiority as much at ease as possible; which naturally, for +the Dean and Phil, added not a little to the situation. + +Then the spring rodeo took the men far from the home ranch, and for +several weeks the distinguished guest of the Cross-Triangle was left +almost wholly to the guardianship of the young woman who lived on the +other side of the big meadows. + +It was the last day of the rodeo, when Phil rode to the home ranch, late +in the afternoon, to consult with the Dean about the shipping. Patches +and the cowboys who were to help in the long drive to the railroad were +at Toohey with the cattle. While the cowboys were finishing their early +breakfast the next morning, the foreman returned, and Patches knew, +almost before Phil spoke, that something had happened. They shouted +their greetings as he approached, but he had no smile for their cheery +reception, nor did he answer, even, until he had ridden close to the +group about the camp fire. Then, with a short "mornin', boys," he +dismounted and stood with the bridle reins in his hand. + +At his manner a hush fell over the little company, and they watched him +curiously. + +"No breakfast, Sam," he said, shortly, to the Chinaman. "Just a cup of +coffee." Then to the cowboys, "You fellows saddle up and get that bunch +of cattle to moving. We'll load at Skull Valley." + +Sam brought his coffee and he drank it as he stood, while the men +hurriedly departed for their horses. Patches, the last to go, paused a +moment, as though to speak, but Phil prevented him with a gruff order. +"Get a move on you, Patches. Those cars will be there long before we +are." + +And Patches, seeing the man's face dark and drawn with pain, moved away +without a word. + +"Great snakes," softly ejaculated Curly a few moments later, as Patches +stooped to take his saddle from where it lay on the ground beside +Curly's. "What do you reckon's eatin' the boss? Him an' the Dean +couldn't 'a' mixed it last night, could they? Do you reckon the Dean +crawled him about somethin'?" + +Patches shook his head with a "Search me, pardner," as he turned to his +horse. + +"Somethin's happened sure," muttered the other, busy with his saddle +blanket. "Sufferin' cats! but I felt like he'd poured a bucket of ice +water down my neck!" He drew the cinch tight with a vigorous jerk that +brought a grunt of protest from his mount. "That's right," he continued, +addressing the horse, "hump yourself, an' swell up and grunt, damn you; +you ought to be thankin' God that you ain't nothin' but a hoss, nohow, +with no feelin' 'cept what's in your belly." He dropped the heavy +stirrup with a vicious slap, and swung to his seat. "If Phil's a-goin' +to keep up the way he's startin', we'll sure have a pleasant little ol' +ride to Skull Valley. Oh, Lord! but I wisht I was a professor of them +there exteticks, or somethin' nice and gentle like, jest for to-day, +anyhow." + +Patches laughed. "Think you could qualify, Curly?" + +The cowboy grinned as they rode off together. "So far as I've noticed +the main part of the work, I could. The shade of them walnut trees at +the home ranch, or the Pot-Hook-S front porch, an' a nice easy rockin' +chair with fat cushions, or mebby the buckboard onct in a while, with +Kitty to do the drivin'--Say, this has sure been some little ol' rodeo, +ain't it? I ain't got a hoss in my string that can more'n stand up, an' +honest to God, Patches, I'm jest corns all over. How's your saddle feel, +this mornin'?" + +"It's got corns, too," admitted Patches. "But there's Phil; we'd better +be riding." + +All that day Phil kept to himself, speaking to his companions only when +speech could not be avoided, and then with the fewest possible words. +That night, he left the company as soon as he had finished his supper, +and went off somewhere alone, and Patches heard him finding his bed, +long after the other members of the outfit were sound asleep. And the +following day, through the trying work of loading the cattle, the young +foreman was so little like himself that, had it not been that his men +were nearly all old-time, boyhood friends who had known him all his +life, there would surely have been a mutiny. + +It was late in the afternoon, when the last reluctant steer was prodded +and pushed up the timbered runway from the pens, and crowded into the +car. Curly and Bob were going with the cattle train. The others would +remain at Skull Valley until morning, when they would start for their +widely separated homes. Phil announced that he was going to the home +ranch that night. + +"You can make it home sometime to-morrow, Patches," he finished, when +he had said good-by to the little group of men with whom he had lived +and worked in closest intimacy through the long weeks of the rodeo. He +reined his horse about, even as he spoke, to set out on his long ride. + +The Cross-Triangle foreman was beyond hearing of the cowboys when +Patches overtook him. "Do you mind if I go back to the Cross-Triangle +with you to-night, Phil?" the cowboy asked quietly. + +Phil checked his horse and looked at his friend a moment without +answering. Then, in a kindlier tone than he had used the past two days, +he said, "You better stay here with the boys, and get your night's rest, +Patches. You have had a long hard spell of it in this rodeo, and +yesterday and to-day have not been exactly easy. Shipping is always +hell, even when everybody is in a good humor," he smiled grimly. + +"If you do not object, I would really like to go," said Patches simply. + +"But your horse is as tired as you ought to be," protested Phil. + +"I'm riding Stranger, you know," the other answered. + +To which Phil replied tersely, "Let's be riding, then." + +The cowboys, who had been watching the two men, looked at each other in +amazement as Phil and Patches rode away together. + +"Well, what do you make of that?" exclaimed one. + +"Looks like Honorable Patches was next," commented another. + +"Us old-timers ain't in it when it comes to associatin' with the boss," +offered a third. + +"You shut up on that line," came sharply from Curly. "Phil ain't turnin' +us down for nobody. I reckon if Patches is fool enough to want to ride +to the Cross-Triangle to-night Phil ain't got no reason for stoppin' +him. If any of you punchers wants to make the ride, the way's open, +ain't it?" + +"Now, don't you go on the prod, too," soothed the other. "We wasn't +meanin' nothin' agin Phil." + +"Well, what's the matter with Patches?" demanded the Cross-Triangle man, +whose heart was sorely troubled by the mystery of his foreman's mood. + +"Ain't nobody _said_ as there was anything the matter. Fact is, don't +nobody _know_ that there is." + +And for some reason Curly had no answer. + +"Don't it jest naturally beat thunder the way he's cottoned up to that +yellow dog of a Yavapai Joe?" mused another, encouraged by Curly's +silence. "Three or four of the boys told how they'd seen 'em together +off an' on, but I didn't think nothin' of it until I seen 'em myself +when we was workin' over at Tailholt. It was one evenin' after supper. I +went down to the corral to fix up that Pedro horse's back, when I heard +voices kind o' low like. I stopped a minute, an' then sort o' eased +along in the dark, an' run right onto 'em where they was a-settin' in +the door o' the saddle room, cozy as you please. Yavapai sneaked away +while I was gettin' the lantern an' lightin' it, but Patches, he jest +stayed an' held the light for me while I fixed ol' Pedro, jest as if +nothin' had happened." + +"Well," said Curly sarcastically, "what _had_ happened?" + +"I don't know-nothin'--mebby." + +"If Patches was what some o' you boys seem to think, do you reckon he'd +be a-ridin' for the Cross-Triangle?" demanded Curly. + +"He might, an' he mightn't," retorted two or three at once. + +"Nobody can't say nothin' in a case like that until the show-down," +added one. "I don't reckon the Dean knows any more than the rest of us." + +"Unless Patches is what some of the other boys are guessin'," said +another. + +"Which means," finished Curly, in a tone of disgust, "that we've got to +millin' 'round the same old ring again. Come on, Bob; let's see what +they've got for supper. That engine'll happen along directly, an' we'll +be startin' hungry." + +Phil Acton was not ignorant of the different opinions that were held by +the cattlemen regarding Honorable Patches. Nor, as the responsible +foreman of the Cross-Triangle, could he remain indifferent to them. +During those first months of Patches' life on the ranch, when the +cowboy's heart had so often been moved to pity for the stranger who had +come to them apparently from some painful crisis in his life, he had +laughed at the suspicions of his old friends and associates. But as the +months had passed, and Patches had so rapidly developed into a strong, +self-reliant man, with a spirit of bold recklessness that was marked +even among those hardy riders of the range, Phil forgot, in a measure, +those characteristics that the stranger had shown at the beginning of +their acquaintance. At the same time, the persistent suspicions of the +cattlemen, together with Patches' curious, and, in a way, secret +interest in Yavapai Joe, could not but have a decided influence upon the +young man who was responsible for the Dean's property. + +It was inevitable, under the circumstances, that Phil's attitude toward +Patches should change, even as the character of Patches himself had +changed. While the foreman's manner of friendship and kindly regard +remained, so far, unaltered, and while Phil still, in his heart, +believed in his friend, and--as he would have said--"would continue to +back his judgment until the show-down," nevertheless that spirit of +intimacy which had so marked those first days of their work together had +gradually been lost to them. The cowboy no longer talked to his +companion, as he had talked that day when they lay in the shade of the +walnut tree at Toohey, and during the following days of their range +riding. He no longer admitted his friend into his inner life, as he had +done that day when he told Patches the story of the wild stallion. And +Patches, feeling the change, and unable to understand the reason for it, +waited patiently for the time when the cloud that had fallen between +them should lift. + +So they rode together that night, homeward bound, at the end of the +long, hard weeks of the rodeo, in the deepening gloom of the day's +passing, in the hushed stillness of the wild land, under the wide sky +where the starry sentinel hosts were gathering for their ever-faithful +watch. And as they rode, their stirrups often touching, each was alone +with his own thoughts. Phil, still in the depth of his somber mood, +brooded over his bitter trouble. Patches, sympathetically wondering, +silently questioning, wished that he could help. + +There are times when a man's very soul forces him to seek companionship. +Alone in the night with this man for whom, even at that first moment of +their meeting on the Divide, he had felt a strange sense of kinship, +Phil found himself drifting far from the questions that had risen to mar +the closeness of their intimacy. The work of the rodeo was over; his +cowboy associates, with their suggestive talk, were far away. Under the +influence of the long, dark miles of that night, and the silent presence +of his companion, the young man, for the time being, was no longer the +responsible foreman of the Cross-Triangle Ranch. In all that vast and +silent world there was, for Phil Acton, only himself, his trouble, and +his friend. + +And so it came about that, little by little, the young man told Patches +the story of his dream, and of how it was now shattered and broken. + +Sometimes bitterly, as though he felt injustice; sometimes harshly, as +though in contempt for some weakness of his own; with sentences broken +by the pain he strove to subdue, with halting words and long silences, +Phil told of his plans for rebuilding the home of his boyhood, and of +restoring the business that, through the generosity of his father, had +been lost; of how, since his childhood almost, he had worked and saved +to that end; and of his love for Kitty, which had been the very light of +his dream, and without which for him there was no purpose in dreaming. +And the man who rode so close beside him listened with a fuller +understanding and a deeper sympathy than Phil knew. + +"And now," said Phil hopelessly, "it's all over. I've sure come to the +end of my string. Reid has put the outfit on the market. He's going to +sell out and quit. Uncle Will told me night before last when I went home +to see about the shipping." + +"Reid is going to sell!" exclaimed Patches; and there was a curious note +of exultation in his voice which Phil did not hear. Neither did Phil see +that his companion was smiling to himself under cover of the darkness. + +"It's that damned Professor Parkhill that's brought it about," continued +the cowboy bitterly. "Ever since Kitty came home from the East she has +been discontented and dissatisfied with ranch life. I was all right when +she went away, but when she came back she discovered that I was nothing +but a cow-puncher. She has been fair, though. She has tried to get back +where she was before she left and I thought I would win her again in +time. I was so sure of it that it never troubled me. You have seen how +it was. And you have seen how she was always wanting the life that she +had learned to want while she was away--the life that you came from, +Patches. I have been mighty glad for your friendship with her, too, +because I thought she would learn from you that a man could have all +that is worth having in _that_ life, and still be happy and contented +_here_. And she would have learned, I am sure. She couldn't help seeing +it. But now that damned fool who knows no more of real manhood than I +do of his profession has spoiled it all." + +"But Phil, I don't understand. What has Parkhill to do with Reid's +selling out?" + +"Why, don't you see?" Phil returned savagely. "He's the supreme +representative of the highest highbrowed culture, isn't he? He's a lord +high admiral, duke, or potentate of some sort, in the world of loftiest +thought, isn't he? He lives, moves and has his being in the lofty realms +of the purely spiritual, doesn't he? He's cultured, and cultivated, and +spiritualized, until he vibrates nothing but pure soul--whatever that +means--and he's refined himself, and mental-disciplined himself, and +soul-dominated himself, until there's not an ounce of red blood left in +his carcass. Get him between you and the sun, after what he calls a +dinner, and you can see every material mouthful that he, has disgraced +himself by swallowing. He's not human, I tell you; he's only a kind of a +he-ghost, and ought to be fed on sterilized moonbeams and pasteurized +starlight." + +"Amen!" said Patches solemnly, when Phil paused for lack of breath. +"But, Phil, your eloquent characterization does not explain what the +he-ghost has to do with the sale of the Pot-Hook-S outfit." + +Phil's voice again dropped into its hopeless key as he answered. "You +remember how, from the very first, Kitty--well--sort of worshiped him, +don't you?" + +"You mean how she worshiped his aesthetic cult, don't you?" corrected +Patches quietly. + +"I suppose that's it," responded Phil gloomily. "Well, Uncle Will says +that they have been together mighty near every day for the past three +months, and that about half of the time they have been over at Kitty's +home. He has discovered, he says, that Kitty possesses a rare and +wonderful capacity for absorbing the higher truths of the more purely +intellectual and spiritual planes of life, and that she has a +marvelously developed appreciation of those ideals of life which are so +far removed from the base and material interests and passions which +belong to the mere animal existence of the common herd." + +"Oh, hell!" groaned Patches. + +"Well, that's what he told Uncle Will," returned Phil stoutly. "And he +has harped on that string so long, and yammered so much to Jim and to +Kitty's mother about the girl's wonderful intellectuality, and what a +record-breaking career she would have if only she had the opportunity, +and what a shame, and a loss to the world it is for her to remain buried +in these soul-dwarfing surroundings, that they have got to believing it +themselves. You see, Kitty herself has in a way been getting them used +to the idea that Williamson Valley isn't much of a place, and that the +cow business doesn't rank very high among the best people. So Jim is +going to sell out, and move away somewhere, where Kitty can have her +career, and the boys can grow up to be something better than low-down +cow-punchers like you and me. Jim is able to retire anyway." + +"Thanks, Phil," said Patches quietly. + +"What for?" + +"Why, for including me in your class. I consider it a compliment, +and"--he added, with a touch of his old self-mocking humor--"I think I +know what I am saying--better, perhaps, than the he-ghost knows what he +talks about." + +"It may be that you do," returned Phil wearily, "but you can see where +it all puts me. The professor has sure got me down and hog-tied so tight +that I can't even think." + +"Perhaps, and again, perhaps not," returned Patches. "Reid hasn't found +a buyer for the outfit yet, has he?" + +"Not yet, but they'll come along fast enough. The Pot-Hook-S Ranch is +too well known for the sale to hang fire long." + +The next day Phil seemed to slip back again, in his attitude toward +Patches, to the temper of those last weeks of the rodeo. It was as +though the young man--with his return to the home ranch and to the Dean +and their talks and plans for the work--again put himself, his personal +convictions and his peculiar regard for Patches, aside, and became the +unprejudiced foreman, careful for his employer's interests. + +Patches very quickly, but without offense, found that the door, which +his friend had opened in the long dark hours of that lonely night ride, +had closed again; and, thinking that he understood, he made no attempt +to force his way. But, for some reason, Patches appeared to be in an +unusually happy frame of mind, and went singing and whistling about the +corrals and buildings as though exceedingly well pleased with himself +and with the world. + +The following day was Sunday. In the afternoon, Patches was roaming +about the premises, keeping at a safe distance from the walnut trees in +front of the house, where the professor had cornered the Dean, thus +punishing both Patches and his employer by preventing one of their long +Sunday talks which they both so much enjoyed. Phil had gone off +somewhere to be alone, and Mrs. Baldwin was reading aloud to Little +Billy. Honorable Patches was left very much to himself. + +From the top of the little hill near the corrals, he looked across the +meadow at exactly the right moment to see someone riding away from the +neighboring ranch. He watched until he was certain that whoever it was +was not coming to the Cross-Triangle--at least, not by way of the meadow +lane. Then, smiling to himself, he went to the big barn and saddled a +horse--there are always two or three that are not turned out in the +pasture--and in a few minutes was riding leisurely away on the Simmons +road, along the western edge of the valley. An hour later he met Kitty +Reid, who was on her way from Simmons to the Cross-Triangle. + +The young woman was sincerely glad to meet him. + +"But you were going to Simmons, were you not?" she asked, as he reined +his horse about to ride with her. + +"To be truthful, I was going to Simmons if I met anyone else, or if I +had not met you," he answered. Then, at her puzzled look, he explained, +"I saw someone leave your house, and guessed that it was you. I guessed, +too, that you would be coming this way." + +"And you actually rode out to meet me?" + +"Actually," he smiled. + +They chatted about the rodeo, and the news of the countryside--for it +had been several weeks since they had met--and so reached the point of +the last ridge before you come to the ranch. Then Patches asked, "May we +ride over there on the ridge, and sit for a while in the shade of that +old cedar, for a little talk? It's early yet, and it's been ages since +we had a pow-wow." + +Reaching the point which Patches had chosen, they left their horses and +made themselves comfortable on the brow of the hill, overlooking the +wide valley meadow and the ranches. + +"And now," said Kitty, looking at him curiously, "what's the talk, Mr. +Honorable Patches?" + +"Just you," said Patches, gravely. + +"Me?" + +"Your own charming self," he returned. + +"But, please, good sir, what have I done?" she asked. "Or, perhaps, it's +what have I not done?" + +"Or perhaps," he retorted, "it's what you are going to do." + +"Oh!" + +"Miss Reid, I am going to ask you a favor--a great favor." + +"Yes?" + +"You have known me now almost a year." + +"Yes." + +"And, yet, to be exact, you do not know me at all." + +She did not answer, but looked at him steadily. + +"And that, in a way," he continued, "makes it easy for me to ask the +favor; that is, if you feel that you can trust me ever so little--trust +me, I mean, to the extent of believing me sincere." + +"I know that you are sincere, Patches," she answered, gravely. + +"Thank you," he returned. Then he said gently, "I want you to let me +talk to you about what is most emphatically none of my business. I want +you to let me ask you impertinent questions. I want you to talk to me +about"--he hesitated; then finished with meaning--"about your career." + +She felt his earnestness, and was big enough to understand, and be +grateful for the spirit that prompted his words. + +"Why, Patches," she cried, "after all that your friendship has meant to +me, these past months, I could not think any question that you would ask +impertinent Surely you know that, don't you?" + +"I hoped that you would feel that way. And I know that I would give five +years of my life if I knew how to convince you of the truth which I have +learned from my own bitter experience, and save you from--from +yourself." + +She could not mistake his earnestness and in spite of herself the man's +intense feeling moved her deeply. + +"Save me from myself?" she questioned. "What in the world do you mean, +Patches?" + +"Is it true," he asked, "that your father is offering the ranch for +sale, and that you are going out of the Williamson Valley life?" + +"Yes, but it is not such a sudden move as it seems. We have often talked +about it at home--father and mother and I." + +"But the move is to be made chiefly on your account, is it not?" + +She flushed a little at this, but answered stoutly. "Yes. I suppose that +is true. You see, being the only one in our family to have the +advantages of--well--the advantages that I have had, it was natural that +I should--Surely you have seen, Patches, how discontented and +dissatisfied I have been with the life here! Why, until you came there +was no one to whom I could talk, even--no one, I mean, who could +understand." + +"But what is it that you want, or expect to find, that you may not have +right here?" + +Then she told him all that he had expected to hear. Told him earnestly, +passionately, of the life she craved, and of the sordid, commonplace +narrowness and emptiness--as she saw it--of the life from which she +sought to escape. And as she talked the man's good heart was heavy with +sadness and pity for her. + +"Oh, girl, girl," he cried, when she had finished. "Can't you--won't +you--understand? All that you seek is right here--everywhere about +you--waiting for you to make it your own, and with it you may have here +those greater things without which no life can be abundant and joyous. +The culture and the intellectual life that is dependent upon mere +environment is a crippled culture and a sickly life. The mind that +cannot find its food for thought wherever it may be planed will never +hobble very far on crutches of superficial cults and societies. You are +leaving the substance, child, for the shadow. You are seeking the fads +and fancies of shallow idlers, and turning your back upon eternal facts. +You are following after silly fools who are chasing bubbles over the +edge of God's good world. Believe me, girl, I know--God! but I do know +what that life, stripped of its tinseled and spangled show, means. Take +the good grain, child, and let the husks go." + +As the man spoke, Kitty watched him as though she were intently +interested; but, in truth, her thoughts were more on the speaker than on +what he said. + +"You are in earnest, aren't you, Patches?" she murmured softly. + +"I am," he returned sharply, for he saw that she was not even +considering what he had said. "I know how mistaken you are; I know what +it will mean to you when you find how much you have lost and how little +you have gained." + +"And how am I mistaken? Do I not know what I want? Am I not better able +than anyone else to say what satisfies me and what does not?" + +"No," he retorted, almost harshly, "you are not. You _think_ it is the +culture, as you call it, that you want; but if that were really it, you +would not go. You would find it here. The greatest minds that the world +has ever known you may have right here in your home, on your library +table. And you may listen to their thoughts without being disturbed by +the magpie chatterings of vain and shallow pretenders. You are attracted +by the pretentious forms and manners of that life; you think that +because a certain class of people, who have nothing else to do, talk a +certain jargon, and profess to follow certain teachers--who, nine times +out of ten, are charlatans or fools--that they are the intellectual and +spiritual leaders of the race. You are mistaking the very things that +prevent intellectual and spiritual development for the things you think +you want." + +She did not answer his thought, but replied to his words. "And supposing +I am mistaken, as you say. Still, I do not see why it should matter so +to you." + +He made a gesture of hopelessness and sat for a moment in silence. Then +he said slowly, "I fear you will not understand, but did you ever hear +the story of how 'Wild Horse Phil' earned his title?" + +She laughed. "Why, of course. Everybody knows about that. Dear, foolish +old Phil--I shall miss him dreadfully." "Yes," he said significantly, +"you will miss him. The life you are going to does not produce Phil +Actons." + +"It produced an Honorable Patches," she retorted slyly. + +"Indeed it did _not_," he answered quickly. "It produced--" He checked +himself, as though fearing that he would say too much. + +"But what have Phil and his wild horse to do with the question?" she +asked. + +"Nothing, I fear. Only I feel about your going away as Phil felt when he +gave the wild horse its freedom." + +"I don't think I understand," she said, genuinely puzzled. + +"I said you would not," he retorted bluntly, "and that's why you are +leaving all this." His gesture indicated the vast sweep of country with +old Granite Mountain in the distance. + +Then, with a nod and a look he indicated Professor Parkhill, who was +walking toward them along the side of the ridge skirting the scattered +cedar timber. "Here comes a product of the sort of culture to which you +aspire. Behold the ideal manhood of your higher life! When the +intellectual and spiritual life you so desire succeeds in producing +racial fruit of that superior quality, it will have justified its +existence--and will perish from the earth." + +Even as Patches spoke, he saw something just beyond the approaching man +that made him start as if to rise to his feet. + +It was the unmistakable face of Yavapai Joe, who, from behind an oak +bush, was watching the professor. + +Patches, glancing at Kitty, saw that she had not noticed. + +Before the young woman could reply to her companion's derisive remarks, +the object which had prompted his comments arrived within speaking +distance. + +"I trust I am not intruding," began the professor, in his small, thin +voice. Then as Patches, his eyes still on that oak bush, stood up, the +little man added, with hasty condescension, "Keep your seat, my man; +keep your seat. I assure you it is not my purpose to deprive you of Miss +Reid's company." + +Patches grinned. By that "my man" he knew that Kitty had not enlightened +her teacher as to the "typical cowboy's" real character. + +"That's all right, perfessor," he said awkwardly. "I just seen a +maverick over yonder a-piece. I reckon I'd better mosey along an' have a +closer look at him. Me an' Kitty here warn't talkin' nothin' important, +nohow. Just a gassin' like. I reckon she'd ruther go on home with you, +anyhow, an' it's all right with me." + +"Maverick!" questioned the professor. "And what, may I ask, is a +maverick?" + +"Hit's a critter what don't belong to nobody," answered Patches, moving +toward his horse. + +At the same moment Kitty, who had risen, and was looking in the +direction from which the professor had come, exclaimed, "Why, there's +Yavapai Joe, Patches. What is he doing here?" + +She pointed, and the professor, looking, caught a glimpse of Joe's back +as the fellow was slinking over the ridge. + +"I reckon mebby he wants to see me 'bout somethin' or other," Patches +returned, as he mounted his horse. "Anyway, I'm a-goin' over that-a-way +an' see. So long!" + +Patches rode up to Joe just as the Tailholt Mountain man regained his +horse on the other side of the ridge. + +"Hello, Joe!" said the Cross-Triangle rider, easily. + +The wretched outcast was so shaken and confused that he could scarcely +find the stirrup with his foot, and his face was pale and twitching with +excitement. He looked at Patches, wildly, but spoke in a sullen tone. +"What's he doin' here? What does he want? How did he get to this +country, anyhow?" + +Patches was amazed, but spoke calmly. "Whom do you mean, Joe?" + +"I mean that man back there, Parkhill--Professor Parkhill. What's he +a-lookin' for hangin' 'round here? You can tell him it ain't no +use--I--" He stopped suddenly, and with a characteristic look of +cunning, turned away. + +Patches rode beside him for some distance, but nothing that he could say +would persuade the wretched creature to explain. + +"Yes, I know you're my friend, all right, Patches," he answered. "You +sure been mighty friendly ter me, an' I ain't fergettin' it. But I ain't +a-tellin' nothin' to nobody, an' it ain't a-goin' to do you no good to +go askin' him 'bout me, neither." + +"I'm not going to ask Professor Parkhill anything, Joe," said Patches +shortly. + +"You ain't?" + +"Certainly not; if you don't want me to know. I'm not trying to find out +about anything that's none of my business." + +Joe looked at him with a cunning leer. "Oh, you ain't, ain't you? Nick +'lows that you're sure--" Again he caught himself. "But I ain't +a-tellin' nothin' to nobody." + +"Well, have _I_ ever asked you to tell me anything?" demanded Patches. + +"No, you ain't--that's right--you sure been square with me, Patches, +an' I ain't fergettin' it. Be you sure 'nuf my friend, Patches? +Honest-to-God, now, be you?" + +His question was pitiful, and Patches assured the poor fellow that he +had no wish to be anything but his friend, if only Yavapai Joe would +accept his help. + +"Then," said Joe pleadingly, "if you mean all that you been sayin' about +wantin' to help me, you'll do somethin' fer me right now." + +"What can I do, Joe?" + +"You kin promise me that you won't say nothin' to nobody 'bout me an' +him back there." + +Patches, to demonstrate his friendliness, answered without thought, +"Certainly, I'll promise that, Joe." + +"You won't tell nobody?" + +"No, I won't say a word." + +The poor fellow's face revealed his gratitude. "I'm obliged to you, +Patches, I sure am, an' I ain't fergettin' nothin', either. You're my +friend, all right, an' I'm your'n. I got to be a-hittin' it up now. +Nick'll jest nachally gimme hell for bein' gone so long." + +"Good-by, Joe!" + +"So long, Patches! An' don't you get to thinkin' that I'm fergettin' how +me an' you is friends." + +When Patches reviewed the incident, as he rode back to the ranch, he +questioned if he had done right in promising Joe. But, after all, he +reassured himself, he was under no obligation to interfere with what was +clearly none of his business. He could not see that the matter in any +possible way touched his employer's interests. And, he reflected, he +had already tried the useless experiment of meddling with other people's +affairs, and he did not care to repeat the experience. + +That evening Patches asked Phil's permission to go to Prescott the next +day. It would be the first time that he had been to town since his +coming to the ranch and the foreman readily granted his request. + +A few minutes later as Phil passed through the kitchen, Mrs. Baldwin +remarked, "I wonder what Patches is feeling so gay about. Ever since he +got home from the rodeo he's been singin' an' whistlin' an' grinnin' to +himself all the time. He went out to the corral just now as merry as a +lark." + +Phil laughed. "Anybody would be glad to get through with that rodeo, +mother; besides, he is going to town to-morrow." + +"He is? Well, you mark my words, son, there's somethin' up to make him +feel as good as he does." + +And then, when Phil had gone on out into the yard, Professor Parkhill +found him. + +"Mr. Acton," began the guest timidly, "there is a little matter about +which I feel I should speak to you." + +"Very well, sir," returned the cowboy. + +"I feel that it would be better for me to speak to you rather than to +Mr. Baldwin, because, well, you are younger, and will, I am sure, +understand more readily." + +"All right; what is it, Professor?" asked Phil encouragingly, wondering +at the man's manner. + +"Do you mind--ah--walking a little way down the road?" + +As they strolled out toward the gate to the meadow road, the professor +continued: + +"I think I should tell you about your man Patches." + +Phil looked at his companion sharply. "Well, what about him?" + +"I trust you will not misunderstand my interest, Mr. Acton, when I say +that it also includes Miss Reid." + +Phil stopped short. Instantly Mrs. Baldwin's remark about Patches' +happiness, his own confession that he had given up all hope of winning +Kitty, and the thought of the friendship which he had seen developing +during the past months, with the realization that Patches belonged to +that world to which Kitty aspired--all swept through his mind. He was +looking at the man beside him so intently that the professor said again +uneasily: + +"I trust, Mr. Acton, that you will understand." + +Phil laughed shortly. "I think I do. But just the same you'd better +explain. What about Patches and Miss Reid, sir?" + +The professor told how he had found them together that afternoon. + +"Oh, is that all?" laughed Phil. + +"But surely, Mr. Acton, you do not think that a man of that fellow's +evident brutal instincts is a fit associate for a young woman of Miss +Reid's character and refinement." + +"Perhaps not," admitted Phil, still laughing, "but I guess Kitty can +take care of herself." + +"I do not agree with you, sir," said the other authoritatively. "A young +woman of Miss Reid's--ah--spirituality and worldly inexperience must +always be, to a certain extent, injured by contact with such illiterate, +unrefined, and, I have no doubt, morally deficient characters." + +"But, look here, Professor," returned Phil, still grinning, "what do you +expect me to do about it? I am not Kitty Reid's guardian. Why don't you +talk to her yourself?" + +"Really," returned the little man, "I--there are reasons why I do not +see my way clear to such a course. I had hoped that you might keep an +eye on the fellow, and, if necessary, use your authority over him to +prevent any such incidents in the future." + +"I'll see what I can do," answered Phil, thinking how the Dean would +enjoy the joke. "But, look here; Kitty was with you when you got to the +ranch. What became of Patches? Run, did he, when you appeared on the +scene?" + +"Oh, no; he went away with a--with a maverick." + +"Went away with a maverick? What, in heaven's name, do you mean by +that?" + +"That's what your man Patches said the fellow was. Miss Reid told me his +name was Joe--Joe something." + +Phil was not laughing now. The fun of the situation had vanished. + +"Was it Yavapai Joe?" he demanded. + +"Yes, that was it. I am quite sure that was the name. He belongs at +Tailend Mountain, I think Miss Reid said; you have such curious names in +this country." + +"And Patches went away with him, you say?" + +"Yes, the fellow seemed to have been hiding in the bushes when we +discovered him, and when Miss Reid asked what he was doing there your +man said that he had come to see him about something. They went away +together, I believe." + +As soon as he could escape from the professor, Phil went straight to +Patches, who was in his room, reading. The man looked up with a +welcoming smile as Phil entered, but as he saw the foreman's face his +smile vanished quickly, and he laid aside his book. + +"Patches," said Phil abruptly, "what's this talk of the professor's +about you and Yavapai Joe?" + +"I don't know what the professor is talking," Patches replied coldly, as +though he did not exactly like the tone of Phil's question. + +"He says that Joe was sneaking about in the brush over on the ridge +wanting to see you about something," returned Phil. + +"Joe was certainly over there on the ridge, and he may have wanted to +see me; at any rate, I saw him." + +"Well, I've got to ask you what sort of business you have with that +Tailholt Mountain thief that makes it necessary for him to sneak around +in the brush for a meeting with you. If he wants to see you, why doesn't +he come to the ranch, like a man?" + +Honorable Patches looked the Dean's foreman straight in the eyes, as he +answered in a tone that he had never used before in speaking to Phil: +"And I have to answer, sir, that my business with Yavapai Joe is +entirely personal; that it has no relation whatever to your business as +the foreman of this ranch. As to why Joe didn't come to the house, you +must ask him; I don't know." + +"You refuse to explain?" demanded Phil. + +"I certainly refuse to discuss Joe Dryden's private affairs--that, so +far as I can see, are of no importance to anyone but himself--with you +or anyone else. Just as I should refuse to discuss any of your private +affairs, with which I happened, by some chance, to be, in a way, +familiar. I have made all the explanation necessary when I say that my +business with him has nothing to do with your business. You have no +right to ask me anything further." + +"I have the right to fire you," retorted Phil, angrily. + +Patches smiled, as he answered gently, "You have the right, Phil, but +you won't use it." + +"And why not?" + +"Because you are not that kind of a man, Phil Acton," answered Patches +slowly. "You know perfectly well that if you discharged me because of my +friendship with poor Yavapai Joe, no ranch in this part of the country +would give me a job. You are too honest yourself to condemn any man on +mere suspicion, and you are too much of a gentleman to damn another +simply because he, too, aspires to that distinction." + +"Very well, Patches," Phil returned, with less heat, "but I want you to +understand one thing; I am responsible for the Cross-Triangle property +and there is no friendship in the world strong enough to influence me in +the slightest degree when it comes to a question of Uncle Will's +interests. Do you get that?" + +"I got that months ago, Phil." + +Without another word, the Dean's foreman left the room. + +Patches sat for some time considering the situation. And now and then +his lips curled in that old, self-mocking smile; realizing that he was +caught in the trap of circumstance, he found a curious humor in his +predicament. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +FRONTIER DAY. + + +Again it was July. And, with the time of the cattlemen's celebration of +the Fourth at hand, riders from every part of the great western cow +country assembled in Prescott for their annual contests. From Texas and +Montana, from Oklahoma and New Mexico and Wyoming, the cowboys came with +their saddles and riatas to meet each other and the men of Arizona in +friendly trials of strength and skill. From many a wild pasture, outlaw +horses famous for their vicious, unsubdued spirits, and their fierce, +untamed strength, were brought to match their wicked, unbroken wills +against the cool, determined courage of the riders. From the wide +ranges, the steers that were to participate in the roping and +bull-dogging contests were gathered and driven in. From many a ranch the +fastest and best of the trained cow-horses were sent for the various +cowboy races. And the little city, in its rocky, mile-high basin, upon +which the higher surrounding mountains look so steadfastly down, again +decked itself in gala colors, and opened wide its doors to welcome all +who chose to come. + +From the Cross-Triangle and the neighboring ranches the cowboys, dressed +in the best of their picturesque regalia, rode into the town, to witness +and take part in the sports. With them rode Honorable Patches. + +And this was not the carefully groomed and immaculately attired +gentleman who, in troubled spirit, had walked alone over that long, +unfenced way a year before. This was not the timid, hesitating, +shamefaced man at whom Phil Acton had laughed on the summit of the +Divide. This was a man among men--a cowboy of the cowboys--bronzed, and +lean, and rugged; vitally alive in every inch of his long body; with +self-reliant courage and daring hardihood written all over him, +expressed in every tone of his voice, and ringing in every note of his +laughter. + +The Dean and Mrs. Baldwin and Little Billy drove in the buckboard, but +the distinguished guest of the Cross-Triangle went with the Reid family +in the automobile. The professor was not at all interested in the +celebration, but he could not well remain at the ranch alone, and, it +may be supposed, the invitation from Kitty helped to make the occasion +endurable. + +The celebration this year--the posters and circulars declared--was to be +the biggest and best that Prescott had ever offered. In proof of the +bold assertion, the program promised, in addition to the usual events, +an automobile race. Shades of all those mighty heroes of the saddle, +whose names may not be erased from the history of the great West, think +of it! An automobile race offered as the chief event in a Frontier Day +Celebration! + +No wonder that Mrs. Manning said to her husband that day, "But Stan, +where are the cowboys?" + +Stanford Manning answered laughingly, "Oh, they are here, all right, +Helen; just wait a little and you will see." + +Mr. and Mrs. Manning had arrived from Cleveland, Ohio, the evening +before, and Helen was eager and excited with the prospect of meeting the +people, and witnessing the scenes of which her husband had told her with +so much enthusiasm. + +As the Dean had told Patches that day when the cattleman had advanced +the money for the stranger's outfit, the young mining engineer had won a +place for himself amid the scenes and among the people of that western +country. He had first come to the land of this story, fresh from his +technical training in the East. His employers, quick to recognize not +only his ability in his profession but his character and manhood, as +well, had advanced him rapidly and, less than a month before Patches +asked for work at the Cross-Triangle, had sent him on an important +mission to their mines in the North. They were sending him, now, again +to Arizona, this time as the resident manager of their properties in the +Prescott district. This new advance in his profession, together with the +substantial increase in salary which it brought, meant much to the +engineer. Most of all, it meant his marriage to Helen Wakefield. A +stop-over of two weeks at Cleveland, on way West, from the main offices +of his Company in New York, had changed his return to Prescott from a +simple business trip to a wedding journey. + +At the home of the Yavapai Club, on top of the hill, a clock above the +plaza, a number of Prescott's citizens, with their guests, had gathered +to watch the beginning of the automobile race. The course, from the +corner in front of the St. Michael hotel, followed the street along one +side of the plaza, climbed straight up the hill, passed the clubhouse, +and so away into the open country. From the clubhouse veranda, from the +lawn and walks in front, or from their seats in convenient automobiles +standing near, the company enjoyed, thus, an unobstructed view of the +starting point of the race, and could look down as well upon the crowds +that pressed against the ropes which were stretched along either side of +the street. Prom a friendly automobile, Helen Manning, with her +husband's field glasses, was an eager and excited observer of the +interesting scene, while Stanford near by was busy greeting old friends, +presenting them to his wife and receiving their congratulations. And +often, he turned with a fond look and a merry word to the young woman, +as though reassuring himself that she was really there. There was no +doubt about it, Stamford Manning, strong and steady and forceful, was +very much in love with this girl who looked down into his face with such +an air of sweet confidence and companionship. And Helen, as she turned +from the scene that so interested her, to greet her husband's friends, +to ask him some question, or to answer some laughing remark, could not +hide the love light in her soft brown eyes. One could not fail to see +that her woman heart was glad--glad and proud that this stalwart, +broad-shouldered leader of men had chosen her for his mate. + +"But, Stan," she said, with a pretty air of disappointment, "I thought +it was all going to be so different. Why, except for the mountains, and +those poor Indians over there, this might all be in some little town +back home. I thought there would be cowboys riding about everywhere, +with long hair and big hats, and guns and things." + +Stanford and his friends who were standing near laughed. + +"I fear, Mrs. Manning," remarked Mr. Richards, one of Prescott's bank +presidents, "that Stanford has been telling you wild west stories. The +West moves as well as the East, you know. We are becoming civilized." + +"Indeed you are, Mr. Richards," Helen returned. "And I don't think I +like it a bit. It's not fair to your poor eastern sight-seers, like +myself." + +"If you are really so anxious to see a sure enough cowboy, look over +there," said Stanford, and pointed across the street. + +"Where?" demanded Helen eagerly. + +"There," smiled Stanford, "the dark-faced chap near that automobile +standing by the curb; the machine with the pretty girl at the wheel. +See! he is stopping to talk with the girl." + +"What! That nice looking man, dressed just like thousands of men that we +might see any day on the streets of Cleveland?" cried Helen. + +"Exactly," chuckled her husband, while the others laughed at her +incredulous surprise. "But, just the same, that's Phil Acton; 'Wild +Horse Phil,' if you please. He is the cowboy foreman of the +Cross-Triangle Ranch, and won the championship in the bronco riding last +year." + +"I don't believe it--you are making fun of me, Stanford Manning." + +Then, before he could answer, she cried, with quick excitement, "But, +Stan, look! Look at the girl in the automobile! She looks like--it is, +Stan, it is!" And to the amazement of her husband and her friends Mrs. +Manning sprang to her feet and, waving her handkerchief, called, "Kitty! +Oh, Kitty--Kitty Reid!" + +As her clear call rang out, many people turned to look, and then to +smile at the picture, as she stood there in the bright Arizona day, so +animated and wholesomely alive in the grace and charm of her beautiful +young womanhood, above the little group of men who were looking up at +her with laughing admiration. + +On the other side of the street, where she sat with her parents and +Professor Parkhill, talking to Phil, Kitty heard the call, and looked. A +moment later she was across the street, and the two young women were +greeting each other with old-time schoolgirl enthusiasm. Introductions +and explanations followed, with frequent feminine exclamations of +surprise and delight. Then the men drew a little away, talking, +laughing, as men will on such occasions, leaving the two women to +themselves. + +In that eastern school, which, for those three years, had been Kitty's +home, Helen Wakefield and the girl from Arizona had been close and +intimate friends. Indeed, Helen, with her strong womanly character and +that rare gift of helpful sympathy and understanding, had been to the +girl fresh from the cattle ranges more than a friend; she had been +counsellor and companion, and, in many ways, a wise guardian and +teacher. + +"But why in the world didn't you write me about it?" demanded Kitty a +little later. "Why didn't you tell me that you had become Mrs. Stanford +Manning, and that you were coming to Prescott?" + +Helen laughed and blushed happily. "Why, you see, Kitty, it all happened +so quickly that there was no time to write. You remember when I wrote +you about Stan, I told you how poor he was, and how we didn't expect to +be married for several years?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, you see, Stan's company, all unexpectedly to him, called +him to New York and gave him this position out here. He had to start at +once, and wired me from New York. Just think, I had only a week for the +wedding and everything! I knew, of course, that I could find you after I +got here." + +"And now that you are here," said Kitty decisively, "you and Mr. Manning +are coming right out to Williamson Valley to spend your honeymoon on the +ranch." + +But Helen shook her head. "Stan has it all planned, Kitty, and he won't +listen to anything else. There is a place around here somewhere that he +calls Granite Basin, and he has it all arranged that we are to camp out +there for three weeks. His company has given him that much time, and we +are going just as soon as this celebration is over. After that, while +Stan gets started with his work, and fixes some place for us to live, I +will make you a little visit." + +"I suppose there is no use trying to contend against the rights of a +brand-new husband," returned Kitty, "but it's a promise, that you will +come to me as soon as your camping trip is over?" + +"It's a promise," agreed Helen. "You see, that's really part of +Stanford's plan; I was so sure you would want me, you know." + +"Want you? I should say I do want you," cried Kitty, "and I need you, +too." + +Something in her voice made Helen look at her questioningly, but Kitty +only smiled. + +"I'll tell you all about it when there is more time." + +"Let me see," said Helen. "There used to be--why, of course, that nice +looking man you were talking to when I recognized you--Phil Acton." She +looked across the street as she spoke, but Phil had gone. + +"Please don't, Helen dear," said Kitty, "that was only my schoolgirl +nonsense. When I came back home I found how impossible it all was. But I +must run back to the folks now. Won't you come and meet them?" + +Before Helen could answer someone shouted, "They're getting ready for +the start," and everybody looked down the hill toward the place where +the racing machines were sputtering and roaring in their clouds of blue +smoke. + +Helen caught up the field glasses to look, saying, "We can't go now, +Kitty. You stay here with us until after the race is started; then we'll +go." + +As Helen lowered the glasses Stanford, who had come to stand beside the +automobile, reached out his hand. "Let me have a look, Helen. They say +my old friend, Judge Morris, is the official starter." He put the field +glasses to his eyes. "There he is all right, as big as life; finest man +that ever lived. Look, Helen." He returned the glasses to his wife "If +you want to see a genuine western lawyer, a scholar and a gentleman, +take a look at that six-foot-three or four down there in the gray +clothes." + +"I see him," said Helen, "but there seems to be some thing the matter; +there he goes back to the machines. Now he's laying down the law to the +drivers." + +"They won't put over anything on Morris," said Stanford admiringly. + +Then a deep, kindly voice at his elbow said, "Howdy, Manning! Ain't you +got time to speak to your old friends?" + +Stanford whirled and, with a glad exclamation, grasped the Dean's +outstretched hand. Still holding fast to the cattleman, he again turned +to his wife, who was looking down at them with smiling interest. "Helen, +this is Mr. Baldwin--the Dean, you know." + +"Indeed, I ought to know the Dean," she cried, giving him her hand. +"Stanford has told me so much about you that I am in love with you +already." + +"And I"--retorted the Dean, looking up at her with his blue eyes +twinkling approval--"I reckon I've always been in love with you. I'm +sure glad to see that this young man has justified his reputation for +good judgment. Have they got any more girls like you back East? 'Cause +if they have, I'll sure be obliged to take a trip to that part of the +world before I get too old." + +"You are just as Stan said you were," retorted Helen. + +"Uncle Will!" cried Kitty. "I am ashamed of you! I didn't think you +would turn down your own home folks like that!" + +The Dean lifted his hat and rumpled his grizzly hair as though fairly +caught. Then: "Why, Kitty, you know that I couldn't love any girl more +than I do you. Why, you belong to me most as much as you belong to your +own father and mother. But, you see--honey--well, you see, we've just +naturally got to be nice to strangers, you know." When they had laughed +at this, Kitty explained to that Dean how Mrs. Manning was the Helen +Wakefield with whom she had been such friends at school, and that, after +the Mannings' outing in Granite Basin, Helen was to visit Williamson +Valley. + +"Campin' out in Granite Basin, heh?" said the Dean to Stanford. "I +reckon you'll be seein' some o' my boys. They're goin' up into that +country after outlaw steers next week." + +"I hope so," returned Stanford. "Helen has been complaining that there +are no cowboys to be seen. I pointed out Phil Acton, but he didn't seem +to fill the bill; she doesn't believe that he is a cowboy at all." + +The Dean chuckled. "He's never been anything else. They don't make 'em +any better anywhere." Then he added soberly, "Phil's not ridin' in the +contest this year, though." + +"What's the matter?" + +"I don't know. He's got some sort of a fool notion in his head that he +don't want to make an exhibition of himself--that's what he said. I've +got another man on the ranch now," he added, as though to change the +subject, "that'll be mighty near as good as Phil in another year. His +name is Patches. He's a good one, all right." + +Kitty, who, had been looking away down the street while the Dean was +talking, put her hand on Helen's arm. "Look down there, Helen. I believe +that is Patches now--that man sitting on his horse at the cross street, +at the foot of the hill, just outside the ropes." + +Helen was looking through the field glasses. "I see him," she cried. +"Now, that's more like it. He looks like what I expected to see. What a +fine, big chap he is, isn't he?" Then, as she studied the distant +horseman, a puzzled expression came over her face. "Why, Kitty!" she +said in a low tone, so that the men who were talking did not hear. "Do +you know, that man somehow reminds me"--she hesitated and lowered the +glasses to look at her companion with half-amused, half-embarrassed +eyes--"he reminds me of Lawrence Knight." + +Kitty's brown, fun-loving eyes glowed with mischief. "Really, Mrs. +Manning, I am ashamed of you. Before the honeymoon has waned, your +thoughts, with no better excuse than the appearance of a poor +cow-puncher, go back to the captivating charms of your old millionaire +lover. I--" + +"Kitty! Do hush," pleaded Helen. + +She lifted her glasses for another look at the cowboy. + +"I don't wonder that your conscience reproves you," teased Kitty, in a +low tone. "But tell me, poor child, how did it happen that you lost your +millionaire?" + +"I didn't lose him," retorted Helen, still watching Patches. "He lost +me." + +Kitty persisted with a playful mockery. "What! the great, the wonderful +Knight of so many millions, failed, with all his glittering charms, to +captivate the fair but simple Helen! Really, I can't believe it." + +"Look at that man right there," flashed Helen proudly, indicating her +husband, "and you can believe it." + +Kitty laughed so gaily that Stanford turned to look at them with smiling +inquiry. + +"Never mind, Mr. Manning," said Kitty, "we are just reminiscing, that's +all." + +"Don't miss the race," he answered; "they're getting ready again to +start. It looks like a go this time." + +"And to think," murmured Kitty, "that I never so much as saw your +Knight's picture! But you used to like Lawrence Knight, didn't you, +Helen?" she added, as Helen lifted her field glasses again. And now, +Mrs. Manning caught a note of earnest inquiry in her companion's voice. +It was as though the girl were seeking confirmation of some purpose or +decision of her own. + +"Why, yes, Kitty, I liked Larry Knight very much," she answered frankly. +"He was a fine fellow in many ways--a dear, good friend. Stanford and I +are both very fond of him; they were college mates, you know. But, my +dear girl, no one could ever consider poor old Larry seriously--as a +man, you know--he is so--so utterly and hopelessly worthless." + +"Worthless! With--how many millions is it?" + +"Oh, Kitty, you know what I mean. But, really dear, we have talked +enough about Mr. Lawrence Knight. I'm going to have another look at the +cowboy. _He_ looks like a real man, doesn't he? What is it the Dean +called him?" + +"Patches." + +"Oh, yes; what a funny name--Patches." + +"Honorable Patches," said Kitty. + +"How odd!" mused Helen. "Oh, Stan, come here a minute. Take the glasses +and look at that cowboy down there." + +Stanford trained the field glasses as she directed. + +"Doesn't he remind you of Larry Knight?" + +"Larry Knight!" Stanford looked at her in amazement. "That cow-puncher? +Larry Knight? I should say _not_. Lord! but wouldn't fastidious, +cultured and correct old Larry feel complimented to know that you found +anything in a common cow-puncher to remind you of him!" + +"But, here, take your glasses, quick; they are going to start at last." + +Even as Helen looked, Judge Morris gave the signal and the first racing +car, with a mighty roar, leaped away from the starting point, and +thundered up the street between the lines of the crowding, cheering +people. An instant more, and Helen Manning witnessed a scene that +thrilled the hearts of every man, woman and child in that great crowd. + +As the big racing car, gathering speed at every throb of its powerful +motor, swept toward the hill, a small boy, but little more than a +toddling baby, escaped from his mother, who, with the excited throng, +was crowding against the rope barrier, and before those whose eyes were +fixed on the automobile noticed, the child was in the street, fairly in +the path of the approaching machine. A sudden hush fell on the shouting +multitude. Helen, through the field glasses, could see even the child's +face, as, laughing gleefully, he looked back when his mother screamed. +Stricken with horror, the young woman could not lower her glasses. +Fascinated, she watched. The people seemed, for an instant, paralyzed. +Not a soul moved or uttered a sound. Would the driver of the racing car +swerve aside from his course in time? If he did, would the baby, in +sudden fright, dodge in front of the machine? Then Helen saw the cowboy +who had so interested her lean forward in his saddle and strike his +spurs deep in the flanks of his already restless horse. With a +tremendous bound the animal cleared the rope barrier, and in an instant +was leaping toward the child and the approaching car. The people gasped +at the daring of the man who had not waited to think. It was over in a +second. As Patches swept by the child, he leaned low from the saddle; +and, as the next leap of his horse carried him barely clear of the +machine, they saw his tall, lithe body straighten, as he swung the baby +up into his arms. + +Then, indeed, the crowd went wild. Men yelled and cheered; women laughed +and cried; and, as the cowboy returned the frightened baby to the +distressed mother, a hundred eager hands were stretched forth to greet +him. But the excited horse backed away; someone raised the rope barrier, +and Patches disappeared down the side street. + +Helen's eyes were wet, but she was smiling. "No," she said softly to +Kitty and Stanford, "that was _not_ Lawrence Knight. Poor old Larry +never could have done that." + +It was a little after the noon hour when Kitty, who, with her father, +mother and brothers, had been for dinner at the home of one of their +Prescott friends, was crossing the plaza on her way to join Mr. and Mrs. +Manning, with whom she was to spend the afternoon. In a less frequented +corner of the little park, back of the courthouse, she saw Patches. The +cowboy, who had changed from his ranch costume to a less picturesque +business garb, was seated alone on one of the benches that are placed +along the walks, reading a letter. With his attention fixed upon the +letter, he did not notice Kitty as she approached. And the girl, when +she first caught sight of him, paused for an instant; then she went +toward him slowly, studying him with a new interest. + +She was quite near when, looking up, he saw her. Instantly he rose to +his feet, slipped the letter into his pocket, and stood before her, hat +in hand, to greet her with genuine pleasure and with that gentle +courtesy which always marked his bearing. And Kitty, as she looked up +at him, felt, more convincingly than ever, that this man would be +perfectly at ease in the most exacting social company. + +"I fear I interrupted you," said the young woman. "I was just passing." + +"Not at all," he protested. "Surely you can give me a moment of your +busy gala day. I know you have a host of friends, of course, but--well, +I am lonely. Curly and Bob and the boys are all having the time of their +lives; the Dean and mother are lunching with friends; and I don't know +where Phil has hidden himself." + +It was like him to mention Phil in almost his first words to her. And +Kitty, as Patches spoke Phil's name, instantly, as she had so often done +during the past few months, mentally placed the two men side by side. + +"I just wanted to tell you"--she hesitated--"Mr. Patches--" + +"I beg your pardon," he interrupted smiling. + +"Well, Patches then; but you seem so different somehow, dressed like +this. I just wanted to tell you that I saw what happened this morning. +It was splendid!" + +"Why, Miss Reid, you know that was nothing. The driver of the car would +probably have dodged the youngster anyway. I acted on the impulse of the +moment, without thinking. I'm always doing something unnecessarily +foolish, you know." + +"The driver of the car would more likely have dodged into the child," +she returned warmly. "And it was fortunate that some one in all that +stupid crowd could act without taking time to think. Everybody says so. +The dear old Dean is as pleased and proud as though you were one of his +own sons." + +"Really, you make too much of it," he returned, clearly embarrassed by +her praise. "Tell me, you are enjoying the celebration? And what's the +matter with Phil? Can't you persuade him to ride in the contest? We +don't want the championship to go out of Yavapai County, do we?" + +Why must he always bring Phil into their talk? Kitty asked herself. + +"I am sure that Phil knows how all his friends feel about his riding," +she said coolly. "If he does not wish to gratify them, it is really a +small matter, is it not?" + +Patches saw that he had made a mistake and changed easily to a safer +topic. + +"You saw the beginning of the automobile race, of course? I suppose you +will be on hand this afternoon for the finish?" + +"Oh, yes, I'm on my way now to join my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stanford +Manning. We are going to see the finish of the race together." + +She watched his face closely, as she spoke of her friends, but he gave +no sign that he had ever heard the name before. + +"It will be worth seeing, I fancy," he returned. "At least everybody +seems to feel that way." + +"I am sure to have a good time, anyway," she returned, "because, you +see, Mrs. Manning is one of my very dearest girl friends, whom I have +not seen for a long time." + +"Indeed! You _will_ enjoy the afternoon, then." + +Was there a shade too much enthusiasm in the tone of his reply? Kitty +wondered. Could it be that his plea of loneliness was merely a +conventional courtesy and that he was really relieved to find that she +was engaged for the afternoon? + +"Yes, and I must hurry on to them, or they will think I am not coming," +she said. "Have a good time, Patches; you surely have earned it. +Good-by!" + +He stood for a moment watching her cross the park. Then, with a quick +look around, as though he did not wish to be observed, he hurried across +the street to the Western Union office. A few moments later he made his +way, by little-frequented side streets, to the stable where he had left +his horse; and while Kitty and her friends were watching the first of +the racing cars cross the line, Patches was several miles away, riding +as though pursued by the sheriff, straight for the Cross-Triangle Ranch. + +Several times that day, while she was with her eastern friends, Kitty +saw Phil near by. But she gave him no signal to join them, and the +cowboy, shy always, and hurt by Kitty's indifference, would not approach +the little party without her invitation. But that evening, while Kitty +was waiting in the hotel lobby for Mr. and Mrs. Manning, Phil, finding +her alone, went to her. + +"I have been trying to speak to you all day," he said reproachfully. +"Haven't you any time for me at all, Kitty?" + +"Don't be foolish, Phil," she returned; "you have seen me a dozen +times." + +"I have _seen_ you, yes," he answered bitterly. + +"But, Phil, you could have come to me, if you had wanted to." + +"I have no desire to go where I am not wanted," he answered. + +"Phil!" + +"Well, you gave no sign that you wanted me." + +"There was no reason why I should," she retorted. "You are not a child. +I was with my friends from the East. You could have joined us if you had +cared to. I should be very glad, indeed, to present you to Mr. and Mrs. +Manning." + +"Thank you, but I don't care to be exhibited as an interesting specimen +to people who have no use for me except when I do a few fool stunts to +amuse them." + +"Very well, Phil," she returned coldly. "If that is your feeling, I do +not care to present you to my friends. They are every bit as sincere and +genuine as you are; and I certainly shall not trouble them with anyone +who cannot appreciate them." + +Kitty was angry, as she had good reason for being. But beneath her anger +she was sorry for the man whose bitterness, she knew, was born of his +love for her. And Phil saw only that Kitty was lost to him--saw in the +girl's eastern friends those who, he felt, had robbed him of his dream. + +"I suppose," he said, after a moment's painful silence, "that I had +better go back to the range where I belong. I'm out of place here." + +The girl was touched by the hopelessness in his voice, but she felt that +it would be no kindness to offer him the relief of an encouraging word. +Her day with her eastern friends, and the memories that her meeting with +Mrs. Manning had aroused, convinced her more than ever that her old love +for Phil, and the life of which he was a part, were for her impossible. + +When she did not speak, the cowboy said bitterly, "I noticed that your +fine friends did not take quite all your time. You found an opportunity +for a quiet little visit with Honorable Patches." + +Kitty was angry now in earnest. "You are forgetting yourself, Phil," she +answered with cold dignity. "And I think that as long as you feel as you +do toward my friends, and can speak to me like this about Mr. Patches, +you are right in saying that you belong on the range. Mr. and Mrs. +Manning are here, I see. I am going to dine with them. Good-by!" She +turned away, leaving him standing there. + +A moment he waited, as though stunned; then he turned to make his way +blindly out of the hotel. + +It was nearly morning when Patches was awakened by the sound of someone +moving about the kitchen. A moment he listened, then, rising, went +quickly to the kitchen door, thinking to surprise some chance night +visitor. + +When Phil saw him standing there the foreman for a moment said nothing, +but, with the bread knife in one hand and one of Stella's good loaves in +the other, stared at him in blank surprise. Then the look of surprise +changed to an expression of questioning suspicion, and he demanded +harshly, "What in hell are _you_ doing here?" + +Patches saw that the man was laboring under some great trouble. Indeed, +Phil's voice and manner were not unlike one under the influence of +strong drink. But Patches knew that Phil never drank. + +"I was sleeping," he answered calmly. "You woke me, I suppose. I heard +you, and came to see who was prowling around the kitchen at this time of +the night; that is all." + +"Oh, that's all, is it? But what are you here for? Why aren't you in +Prescott where you are supposed to be?" + +Patches, because he saw Phil's painful state of mind, exercised +admirable self-control. "I supposed I had a perfect right to come here +if I wished. I did not dream that my presence in this house would be +questioned." + +"That depends," Phil retorted. "Why did you leave Prescott?" + +Patches, still calm, answered gently. "My reasons for not staying in +Prescott are entirely personal, Phil; I do not care to explain just +now." + +"Oh, you don't? Well, it seems to me, sir, that you have a devil of a +lot of personal business that you can't explain." + +"I am afraid I have," returned Patches, with his old self-mocking smile. +"But, look here, Phil, you are disturbed and all wrought up about +something, or you wouldn't attack me like this. You don't really think +me a suspicious character, and you know you don't. You are not yourself, +old man, and I'll be hanged if I'll take anything you say as an insult, +until I know that you say it, deliberately, in cold blood. I'm sorry for +your trouble, Phil--damned sorry--I would give anything if I could help +you. Perhaps I may be able to prove that later, but just now I think the +kindest and wisest thing that I can do for us both is to say +good-night." + +He turned at the last word, without waiting for Phil to speak, and went +back to his room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN GRANITE BASIN. + + +On the other side of Granite Mountain from where Phil and Patches +watched the wild horses that day, there is a rocky hollow, set high in +the hills, but surrounded on every side by still higher peaks and +ridges. Lying close under the sheer, towering cliffs of the mountain, +those fortress-like walls so gray and grim and old seem to overshadow +the place with a somber quiet, as though the memories of the many ages +that had wrought their countless years into those mighty battlements +gave to the very atmosphere a feeling of solemn and sacred seclusion. It +was as though nature had thrown about this spot a strong protecting +guard, that here, in her very heart, she might keep unprofaned the +sweetness and strength and beauty of her primitive and everlasting +treasures. + +In its wild and rugged setting, Granite Basin has, for the few who have +the hardihood to find them, many beautiful glades and shady nooks, where +the grass and wild flowers weave their lovely patterns for the earth +floor, and tall pines spread their soft carpets of brown, while giant +oaks and sycamores lift their cathedral arches to support the ceilings +of green, and dark rock fountains set in banks of moss and fern hold +water clear and cold. It was to one of these that Stanford Manning +brought his bride for their honeymoon. Stanford himself pitched their +tent and made their simple camp, for it was not in his plan that the +sweet intimacy of these, the first weeks of their mated life, should be +marred, even by servants. And Helen, wise in her love, permitted him to +realize his dream in the fullness of its every detail. + +As she lay in the hammock which he had hung for her under the canopy of +living green, and watched him while he brought wood for their camp fire, +and made all ready for the night which was drawing near, she was glad +that he had planned it so. But more than that, she was glad that he was +the kind of a man who would care to plan it so. Then, when all was +finished, he came to sit beside her, and together they watched the light +of the setting sun fade from the summit of Old Granite, and saw the +flaming cloud-banner that hung above the mountain's castle towers furled +by the hand of night. In silence they watched those mighty towering +battlements grow cold and grim, until against the sky the shadowy bulk +stood mysterious and awful, as though to evidence in its grandeur and +strength the omnipotent might and power of the Master Builder of the +world and Giver of all life. + +And when the soft darkness was fully come, and the low murmuring voices +of the night whispered from forest depth and mountain side, while the +stars peered through the weaving of leaf and branch, and the ruddy light +of their camp fire rose and fell, the man talked of the things that had +gone into the making of his life. As though he wished his mate to know +him more fully than anyone else could know, he spoke of those personal +trials and struggles, those disappointments and failures, those plans +and triumphs of which men so rarely speak; of his boyhood and his +boyhood home life, of his father and mother, of those hard years of his +youth, and his struggle for an education that would equip him for his +chosen life work; he told her many things that she had known only in a +general way. + +But most of all he talked of those days when he had first met her, and +of how quickly and surely the acquaintance had grown into friendship, +and then into a love which he dared not yet confess. Smilingly he told +how he had tried to convince himself that she was not for him. And how, +believing that she loved and would wed his friend, Lawrence Knight, he +had come to the far West, to his work, and, if he could, to forget. + +"But I could not forget, dear girl," he said. "I could not escape the +conviction that you belonged to me, as I felt that I belonged to you. I +could not banish the feeling that some mysterious higher law--the law +that governs the mating of the beautifully free creatures that live in +these hills--had mated you and me. And so, as I worked and tried to +forget, I went on dreaming just the same. It was that way when I first +saw this place. I was crossing the country on my way to examine some +prospects for the company, and camped at this very spot. And that +evening I planned it all, just as it is to-night. I put the tent there, +and built our fire, and stretched your hammock under the tree, and sat +with you in the twilight; but even as I dreamed it I laughed at myself +for a fool, for I could not believe that the dream would ever come true. +And then, when I got back to Prescott, there was a letter from a +Cleveland friend, telling me that Larry had gone abroad to be away a +year or more, and another letter from the company, calling me East +again. And so I stopped at Cleveland and--" He laughed happily. "I know +now that dreams do come true." + +"You foolish boy," said Helen softly. "To think that I did not know. +Why, when you went away, I was so sure that you would come for me again, +that I never even thought that it could be any other way. I thought you +did not speak because you felt that you were too poor, because you felt +that you had so little to offer, and because you wished to prove +yourself and your work before asking me to share your life. I did not +dream that you could doubt my love for you, or think for a moment that +there could ever be anyone else. I felt that you _must_ know; and so, +you see, while I waited I had my dreams, too." + +"But don't you see, girl," he answered, as though for a moment he found +it hard to believe his own happiness, "don't you see? Larry is such a +splendid fellow, and you two were such friends, and you always seemed so +fond of him, and with his wealth he could give you so much that I knew I +never could give--" + +"Of course, I am fond of Larry; everyone is. He has absolutely nothing +to do in the world but to make himself charming and pleasant and +entertaining and amusing. Why, Stan, I don't suppose that in all his +life he ever did one single thing that was necessary or useful. He even +had a man to help him dress. He is cultured and intellectual, and bright +and witty, and clean and good-natured, possessing, in fact, all the +qualifications of a desirable lap dog, and you can't help liking him, +just as you would like a pretty, useless pet." + +Stanford chuckled. She had described Lawrence Knight so accurately. + +"Poor old Larry," he said. "What a man he might have been if he had not +been so pampered and petted and envied and spoiled, all because of his +father's money. His heart is right, and at the bottom he has the right +sort of stuff in him. His athletic record at school showed us that. I +think that was why we all liked him so in spite of his uselessness." + +"I wish you could have known my father, Stan," said Helen thoughtfully, +as though she, too, were moved to speak by the wish that her mate might +know more of the things that had touched her deeper life. + +"I wish so, too," he answered. "I know that he must have been fine." + +"He was my ideal," she answered softly. "My other ideal, I mean. From +the time I was a slip of a girl he made me his chum. Until he died we +were always together. Mother died when I was a baby, you know. Many, +many times he would take me with him when he made his professional +visits to his patients, leaving me in the buggy to wait at each +house--'to be his hitching post'--he used to say. And on those long +rides, sometimes out into the country, he talked to me as I suppose not +many fathers talk to their daughters. And because he was my father and a +physician, and because we were so much alone in our companionship, I +believed him the wisest and best man in all the world, and felt that +nothing he said or did could be wrong. And so, you see, dear, my ideal +man, the man to whom I could give myself, came to be the kind of a man +that my father placed in the highest rank among men--a man like you, +Stan. And almost the last talk we had before he died father said to +me--I remember his very words--'My daughter, it will not be long now +until men will seek you, until someone will ask you to share his life. +Keep your ideal man safe in your heart of hearts, daughter, and remember +that no matter what a suitor may have to offer of wealth or social rank, +if he is not your ideal--if you cannot respect and admire him for his +character and manhood alone--say no; say no, child, at any cost. But +when your ideal man comes--the one who compels your respect and +admiration for his strength of character, and for the usefulness of his +life, the one whom you cannot help loving for his manhood alone--mate +with him--no matter how light his purse or how lowly his rank in the +world.' And so you see, as soon as I learned to know you, I realized +what you were to me. But I wish--oh, how I wish--that father could have +lived to know you, too." + +For some time they watched the dancing camp fire flames in silence, as +though they had found in their love that true oneness that needs no +spoken word. + +Then Stanford said, "And to think that we expected to wait two years or +more, and now--thanks to a soulless corporation--we are here in a little +less than a year!" + +"Thanks to no soulless corporation for that, sir," retorted Helen with +spirit. "But thanks to the brains and strength and character of my +husband." + +Two of the three weeks' vacation granted the engineer had passed when +Mrs. Manning, one afternoon, informed her husband that as the ordained +provider for the household it was imperative that he provide some game +for their evening meal. + +"And what does Her Majesty, the cook, desire?" he asked. "Venison, +perhaps?" + +She shook her head with decision. "You will be obliged to go too far, +and be gone too long, to get a deer." + +"But you're going with me, of course." + +Again she shook her head. "I have something else to do. I can't always +be tagging around after you while you are providing, you know; and we +may as well begin to be civilized again. Just go a little way--not so +far that you can't hear me call--and bring me some nice fat quail like +those we had day before yesterday." + +She watched him disappear in the brush and then busied herself about the +camp. Presently she heard the gun, and smiled as she pictured him +hunting for their supper, much as though they were two primitive +children of nature, instead of the two cultured members of a highly +civilized race, that they really were. Then, presently she must go to +the spring for water, that he might have a cool drink when he returned. + +She was half way to the spring, singing softly to herself, when a sound +on the low ridge above the camp attracted her attention. Pausing, she +looked and listened. The song died on her lips. It could not be Staford +coming so noisily through the brush and from that direction. Even as +the thought came, she heard the gun again, a little farther away down +the narrow valley below the camp, and, in the same moment, the noise on +the ridge grew louder, as though some heavy animal were crashing through +the bushes. And then suddenly, as she stood there in frightened +indecision, a long-horned, wild-eyed steer broke through the brush on +the crest of the ridge and plunged down the steep slope toward the camp. + +Weak and helpless with fear, Helen could neither scream nor run, but +stood fascinated by the very danger that menaced her--powerless, even, +to turn her eyes away from the frightful creature that had so rudely +broken the quiet seclusion of the little glade. Behind the steer, even +as the frenzied animal leaped from the brow of the hill, she saw a +horseman, as wild in his appearance and in his reckless rushing haste as +the creature he pursued. Curiously, as in a dream, she saw the horse's +neck and shoulders dripping wet with sweat, as with ears flat, nose +outstretched, and nostrils wide the animal strained every nerve in an +effort to put his rider a few feet closer to the escaping quarry. She +even noted the fringed leather chaps, the faded blue jumper, the broad +hat of the rider, and that in his rein hand he held the coil of a riata +high above the saddle horn, while in his right was the half-opened loop. +The bridle reins were loose, as though he gave the horse no thought; and +they took the steep, downward plunge from the summit of the ridge +without an instant's pause, and apparently with all the ease and +confidence that they would have felt on smooth and level ground. + +The steer, catching sight of the woman, and seeing in her, perhaps, +another enemy, swerved a little in his plunging course, and, with +lowered head, charged straight at her. + +The loop of that rawhide rope was whirling now above the cowboy's head, +and his spurs drew blood from the heaving flanks of the straining horse, +as every mad leap of the steer brought death a few feet nearer the +helpless woman. + +The situation must have broken with frightful suddenness upon the man, +but he gave no sign--no startled shout, no excited movement. He even +appeared, to Helen, to be as coolly deliberate as though no thought of +her danger disturbed him; and she recognized, even in that awful moment, +the cowboy whom she had watched through the field glasses, that day of +the celebration at Prescott. She could not know that, in the same +instant, as his horse plunged down from the summit of the ridge, Patches +had recognized her; and that as his hand swung the riata with such cool +and deliberate precision, the man was praying--praying as only a man who +sees the woman he loves facing a dreadful death, with no hand but his to +save her, could pray. + +God help him if his training of nerve and hand should fail now! Christ +pity him, if that whirling loop should miss its mark, or fall short! + +His eye told him that the distance was still too great. He must--he +_must_--lessen it; and again his spurs drew blood. He must be cool--cool +and steady and sure--and he must act now--NOW! + +Helen saw the racing horse make a desperate leap as the spurs tore his +heaving sides; she saw that swiftly whirling loop leave the rider's +hand, as the man leaned forward in his saddle. Curiously she watched the +loop open with beautiful precision, as the coils were loosed and the +long, thin line lengthened through the air. It seemed to move so +slowly--those wickedly lowered horns were so near! Then she saw the +rider's right hand move with flashlike quickness to the saddle horn, as +he threw his weight back, and the horse, with legs braced and hoofs +plowing the ground, stopped in half his own length, and set his weight +against the weight of the steer. The flexible riata straightened as a +rod of iron, the steer's head jerked sideways; his horns buried +themselves in the ground; he fell, almost at her feet. And then, as the +cowboy leaped from his horse, Helen felt herself sinking into a soft, +thick darkness that, try as she might, she could not escape. + +Still master of himself, but with a kind of fierce coolness, Patches ran +to the fallen steer and securely tied the animal down. But when he +turned to the woman who lay unconscious on the ground, a sob burst from +his lips, and tears were streaming down his dust-grimed cheeks. And as +he knelt beside her he called again and again that name which, a year +before, he had whispered as he stood with empty, outstretched arms, +alone, on the summit of the Divide. + +Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the hammock, and finding +water and a towel, wet her brow and face; and all the while, in an agony +of fear, he talked to her with words of love. + +Overwrought by the unexpected, and, to him, almost miraculous meeting +with Helen--weak and shaken by the strain of those moments of her +danger, when her life depended so wholly upon his coolness and +skill--unnerved by the sight of her lying so still and white, and beside +himself with the strength of his passion--the man made no effort to +account for her presence in that wild and lonely spot, so far from the +scenes amid which he had learned to know and love her. He was conscious +only that she was there--that she had been very near to death--that he +had held her in his arms--and that he loved her with all the strength of +his manhood. + +Presently, with a low cry of joy, he saw the blood creep back into her +white cheeks. Slowly her eyes opened and she looked wonderingly up into +his face. + +"Helen!" he breathed. "Helen!" + +"Why, Larry!" she murmured, still confused and wondering. "So it _was_ +you, after all! But what in the world are you doing here like this? They +told me your name was Patches--Honorable Patches." + +Then the man spoke--impetuously, almost fiercely, his words came without +thought. + +"I am here because I would be anything, do anything that a man could be +and do to win your love. A year ago, when I told you of my love, and +asked you to be my wife, and, like the silly, pampered, petted fool that +I was, thought that my wealth and the life that I offered could count +for anything with a woman like you, you laughed at me. You told me that +if ever you married, you would wed a man, not a fortune nor a social +position. You made me see myself as I was--a useless idler, a dummy for +the tailors, a superficial chatterer of pretty nothings to vain and +shallow women; you told me that I possessed not one manly trait of +character that could compel the genuine love of an honest woman. You let +me see the truth, that my proposal to you was almost an insult. You made +me understand that your very friendship for me was such a friendship as +you might have with an amusing and irresponsible boy, or a spoiled +child. You could not even consider my love for you seriously, as a woman +like you must consider the love of a strong man. And you were right, +Helen. But, dear, it was for me a bitter, bitter lesson. I went from +you, ashamed to look men in the face. I felt myself guilty--a pitifully +weak and cowardly thing, with no right to exist. In my humiliation, I +ran from all who knew me--I came out here to escape from the life that +had made me what I was--that had robbed me of my manhood. And here, by +chance, in the contests at the celebration in Prescott, I saw a man--a +cowboy--who possessed everything that I lacked, and for the lack of +which you had laughed at me. And then alone one night I faced myself and +fought it out. I knew that you were right, Helen, but it was not easy to +give up the habits and luxury to which all my life I had been +accustomed. It was not easy, I say, but my love for you made it a +glorious thing to do; and I hoped and believed that if I proved myself a +man, I could go back to you, in the strength of my manhood, and you +would listen to me. And so, penniless and a stranger, under an assumed +name, I sought useful, necessary work that called for the highest +quality of manhood. And I have won, Helen; I know that I have won. +To-day Patches, the cowboy, can look any man in the face. He can take +his place and hold his own among men of any class anywhere. I have +regained that of which the circumstances of birth and inheritance and +training robbed me. I have won the right of a man to come to you again. +I claim that right now, Helen. I tell you again that I love you. I love +you as--" + +"Larry! Larry!" she cried, springing to her feet, and drawing away from +him, as though suddenly awakened from some strange spell. "Larry, you +must not! What do you mean? How can you say such things to me?" + +He answered her with reckless passion. "I say such things because I am a +man, and because you are the woman I love and want; because--" + +She cried out again in protest. "Oh, stop, stop! Please stop! Don't you +know?" + +"Know what?" he demanded. + +"My--my husband!" she gasped. "Stanford Manning--we are here on our +honeymoon." + +She saw him flinch as though from a heavy blow, and put out his hand to +the trunk of a tree near which they stood, to steady himself. He did not +speak, but his lips moved as though he repeated her words to himself, +over and over again; and he gazed at her with a strange bewildered, +doubting look, as though he could not believe his own suffering. + +Impulsively Helen went a step toward him. "Larry!" she said. "Larry!" + +Her voice seemed to arouse him and he stood erect as though by a +conscious effort of will. Then that old self-mocking smile was on his +lips. He was laughing at his hurt--making sport of himself and his cruel +predicament. + +But to Helen there was that in his smile which wrung her woman heart. +"Oh, Larry," she said gently. "Forgive me; I am so sorry; I--" + +He put out his hand with a gesture of protest, and his voice was calm +and courteous. "I beg your pardon, Helen. It was stupid of me not to +have understood. I forgot myself for the moment. It was all so +unexpected--meeting you like this. I did not think." He looked away +toward his waiting horse and to the steer lying on the ground. "So you +and Stanford Manning--Good old Stan! I am glad for him. And for you, +too, Helen. Why, it was I who introduced him to you; do you remember?" + +He smiled again that mirthless, self-mocking smile, as he added without +giving her time to speak, "If you will excuse me for a moment, I will +rid your camp of the unwelcome presence of that beast yonder." Then he +went toward his horse, as though turning for relief to the work that had +become so familiar to him. + +She watched him while he released the steer, and drove the animal away +over the ridge, where he permitted it to escape into the wild haunts +where it lived with its outlaw companions. + +When he rode back to the little camp Stanford had returned. + +For an hour they talked together as old friends. But Helen, while she +offered now and then a word or a remark, or asked a question, and +laughed or smiled with them, left the talk mostly to the two men. +Stanford, when the first shock of learning of Helen's narrow escape was +over, was gaily enthusiastic and warm in his admiration for his old +friend, who had, for no apparent reason but the wish to assert his own +manhood, turned his back upon the ease and luxury of his wealth to live +a life of adventurous hardship. And Patches, as he insisted they should +call him, with many a laughing jest and droll comment told them of his +new life and work. He was only serious when he made them promise to keep +his identity a secret until he himself was ready to reveal his real +name. + +"And what do you propose to do when your game of Patches is played out?" +Stanford asked curiously. + +For an instant they saw him smiling mockingly at himself; then he +answered lightly, "Try some other fool experiment, I reckon." + +Stanford chuckled; the reply was so like the cowboy Patches, and so +unlike his old friend Larry Knight. + +"As for that, Stan," Patches continued, "I don't see that the game will +ever be played out, as you say. Certainly I can never now go back +altogether to what I was. The fellow you used to know in Cleveland is +not really I, you see. Fact is, I think that fellow is quite dead--peace +be to his ashes! The world is wide and there is always work for a man to +do." + +The appearance of Phil Acton on the ridge, at the spot where the steer, +followed by Patches, had first appeared, put an end to their further +conversation with Lawrence Knight. + +"My boss!" said that gentleman, in his character of Patches the cowboy, +as the Cross-Triangle foreman halted his horse on the brow of the hill, +and sat looking down upon the camp. + +"Be careful, please, and don't let him suspect that you ever saw me +before. I'll sure catch it now for loafing so long." + +"I know him," said Stanford. Then he called to the man above, "Come on +down, Acton, and be sociable." + +Phil rode into camp, shook hands with Stanford cordially, and was +presented to Mrs. Manning, to whom he spoke with a touch of +embarrassment. Then he said, with a significant look at Patches, "I'm +glad to meet you people, Mr. Manning, but we really haven't much time +for sociability just now. Mr. Baldwin sent me with an outfit into this +Granite Basin country to gather some of these outlaw steers. He expects +us to be on the job." Turning to Patches, he continued, "When you didn't +come back I thought you must have met with some serious trouble, and so +trailed you. We've managed to lose a good deal of time, altogether. That +steer you were after got away from you, did he?" + +Helen spoke quickly. "Oh, Mr. Acton, you must not blame Mr. Patches for +what happened. Really, you must not. No one was to blame; it just +happened--" She stopped, unable to finish the explanation, for she was +thinking of that part of the incident which was known only to herself +and Patches. + +Stanford told in a few words of his wife's danger and how the cowboy had +saved her. + +"That was mighty good work, Patches," said Phil heartily, "mighty good +work. I'm sorry, Mr. Manning, that our coming up here after these +outlaws happened at just this time. It is too bad to so disturb you and +Mrs. Manning. We are going home Friday, however, and I'll tell the boys +to keep clear of your neighborhood in the meantime." + +As the two Cross-Triangle men walked toward their horses, Helen and +Stanford heard Phil ask, "But where is that steer, Patches?" + +"I let him go," returned Patches. + +"You let him go!" exclaimed the foreman. "After you had him roped and +tied? What did you do that for?" + +Patches was confused. "Really, I don't know." + +"I'd like to know what you figure we're up here for," said Phil, +sharply. "You not only waste two or three hours visiting with these +people, but you take my time trailing you up; and then you turn loose a +steer after you get him. It looks like you'd lost your head mighty bad, +after all." + +"I'm afraid you're right, Phil," Patches answered quietly. + +Helen looked at her husband indignantly but Stanford was grinning with +delight. + +"To think," he murmured, "of Larry Knight taking a dressing-down like +that from a mere cowboy foreman!" + +But Patches was by no means so meek in spirit as he appeared in his +outward manner. He had been driven almost to the verge of desperation by +the trying situation, and was fighting for self-control. To take his +foreman's rebuke in the presence of his friends was not easy. + +"I reckon I'd better send you to the home ranch to-night, instead of +Bob," continued Phil, as the two men mounted their horses and sat for a +moment facing each other. "It looks like we could spare you best. Tell +Uncle Will to send the chuck wagon and three more punchers, and that +we'll start for the home ranch Friday. And be sure that you get back +here to-morrow." + +"Shall I go now?" + +"Yes, you can go now." + +Patches wheeled his horse and rode away, while Phil disappeared over the +ridge in the direction from which he had come. + +When the two cowboys were out of sight, Helen went straight to her +husband, and to Stanford's consternation, when he took her in his arms, +she was crying. + +"Why, girl, what is it?" he asked, holding her close. + +But she only answered between sobs as she clung to him, "It--it's +nothing--never mind, Stan. I'm just upset." + +And Stanford quite naturally thought it was only a case of nerves caused +by the danger through which she had passed. + +For nearly an hour, Patches rode toward the home ranch, taking only such +notice of his surroundings as was necessary in order for him to keep his +direction. Through the brush and timber, over the ridges down into +valleys and washes, and along the rock-strewn mountain sides he allowed +his horse to pick the way, and take his own gait, with scarcely a touch +of rein or spur. + +The twilight hour was beginning when he reached a point from which he +could see, in the distance, the red roofs of the Cross-Triangle +buildings. Checking his horse, he sat for a long time, motionless, +looking away over the broad land that had come to mean so much to him, +as though watching the passing of the day. + +But the man did not note the changing colors in the western sky; he did +not see the shadows deepening; he was not thinking of the coming of the +night. The sight of the distant spot that, a year before, had held such +possibilities for him, when, on the summit of the Divide, he had chosen +between two widely separated ways of life, brought to him, now, a keener +realization of the fact that he was again placed where he must choose. +The sun was down upon those hopes and dreams that in the first hard +weeks of his testing had inspired and strengthened him. The night of +despairing, reckless abandonment of the very ideals of manhood for which +he had so bravely struggled was upon him; while the spirit and strength +of that manhood which he had so hardly attained fought against its +surrender. + +When Stanford Manning had asked, "What will you do when your game of +Patches is played out?" he had said that the man whom they had known in +the old days was dead. Would this new man also die? Deliberately the man +turned about and started back the way he had come. + +In their honeymoon camp, that evening, when the only light in the sky +was the light of the stars, and the camp fire's ruddy flames made weird +shadows come and go in the little glade, Helen, lying in the hammock, +and Stanford, sitting near, talked of their old friend Lawrence Knight. +But as they talked they did not know that a lonely horseman had stopped +on the other side of the low ridge, and leaving his horse, had crept +carefully through the brush, to a point on the brow of the hill, from +which he could look down into the camp. + +From where he lay in the darkness, the man could see against the camp +fire's light the two, where the hammock was swung under the trees. He +could hear the low murmur of their voices, with now and then a laugh. +But it was always the man who laughed, for there was little mirth in +Helen's heart that night. Then he saw Stanford go into the tent and +return again to the hammock; and soon there came floating up to him the +sweet, plaintive music of Helen's guitar, and then her voice, full and +low, with a wealth of womanhood in every tone, as she sang a love song +to her mate. Later, when the dancing flames of the camp fire had fallen +to a dull red glow, he saw them go arm in arm into their tent. Then all +was still. The red glow of the fire dimmed to a spark, and darkness drew +close about the scene. But even in the darkness the man could still see, +under the wide, sheltering arms of the trees, a lighter spot--the white +tent. + +"Gethsemane," said the Dean to me once, when our talk had ranged wide +and touched upon many things, "Gethsemane ain't no place; it's somethin' +that happens. Whenever a man goes up against himself, right there is +where Gethsemane is. And right there, too, is sure to be a fight. A man +may not always know about it at the time; he may be too busy fightin' to +understand just what it all means; but he'll know about it +afterwards--No matter which side of him wins, he'll know afterwards that +it was the one big fight of his life." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +AT MINT SPRING. + + +When those days at Prescott were over, and Mr. and Mrs. Manning had left +for their camp in Granite Basin, Kitty Reid returned to Williamson +Valley reluctantly. She felt that with Phil definitely out of her life +the last interest that bound her to the scenes of her girlhood was +broken. Before many weeks the ranch would be sold. A Prescott agent had +opened negotiations for an eastern client who would soon be out to look +over the property; and Mr. Reid felt, from all that the agent had said, +that the sale was assured. In the meantime Kitty would wait as patiently +as she could. To help her, there would be Helen's visit, and there was +her friendship with Professor Parkhill. It was not strange, considering +all the circumstances, that the young woman should give her time more +generously than ever to the only person in the neighborhood, except +Patches, perhaps, who she felt could understand and appreciate her +desires for that higher life of which even her own parents were +ignorant. + +And the professor did understand her fully. He told her so many times +each day. Had he not given all the years of his little life to the study +of those refining and spiritualizing truths that are so far above the +comprehension of the base and ignoble common herd? Indeed, he understood +her language; he understood fully, why the sordid, brutal materialism of +her crude and uncultured environment so repulsed and disgusted her. He +understood, more fully than Kitty herself, in fact, and explained to her +clearly, that her desires for the higher intellectual and spiritual life +were born of her own rare gifts, and evidenced beyond all question the +fineness and delicacy of her nature. He rejoiced with her--with a pure +and holy joy--that she was so soon to be set free to live amid the +surroundings that would afford her those opportunities for the higher +development of her intellectual and spiritual powers which her soul +craved. All this he told her from day to day; and then, one afternoon, +he told her more. + +It was the same afternoon that Patches had so unexpectedly found Helen +and Stanford in their Granite Basin camp. Kitty and the professor had +driven in the buckboard to Simmons for the mail, and were coming back by +the road to the Cross-Triangle, when the man asked, "Must we return to +the ranch so soon? It is so delightful out here where there is no one to +intrude with vulgar commonplaces, to mar our companionship." + +"Why, no," returned Kitty. "There is no need for us to hurry home." She +glanced around. "We might sit over there, under those cedars on the +hill, where you found me with Mr. Patches that day--the day we saw +Yavapai Joe, you remember." + +"If you think it quite safe to leave the vehicle," he said, "I should be +delighted." + +Kitty tied the horses to a convenient bush at the foot of the low hill, +and soon they were in the welcome shade of the cedars. + +"Miss Reid," the professor began, with portentous gravity, "I must +confess that I have been rather puzzled to account for your presence +here that day with such a man as that fellow Patches. You will pardon my +saying so, I am sure, but you must have observed my very deep interest +in you. I also chanced to see you with him one day in Prescott, in the +park. You don't mind my speaking of it?" + +"Not at all, Professor Parkhill," Kitty returned, smiling as she thought +how ignorant the professor was of the cowboy's real character. "I like +Patches. He interests me very much; and there is really no reason why I +should not be friendly with him. Don't you think that I should be kind +to our cowboys?" + +"I suppose so," the professor sighed. "But it hurts me to see you have +anything whatever in common with such a man. It shocks me to know that +you must, in any degree, come in touch with such fellows. I shall be +very glad, indeed, when you are free from any such kindly obligations, +and safe among those of your own class." + +Kitty found it very hard to reply. She did not wish to be disloyal to +Patches and her many Williamson Valley friends; nor did she like to +explain how Patches had played a part for the professor's benefit, for +she felt that by not exposing the deception she had, in a way, been a +party to it. So she said nothing, but seemed to be silently weighing +the value of her learned companion's observations. At least, it so +appeared to the professor, and in her ready acceptance of his implied +criticism of her conduct he found the encouragement he needed for that +which followed. + +"You must understand, Miss Reid, that I have become exceedingly zealous +for your welfare. In these months that we have been so much together +your companionship--your spiritual and intellectual companionship, I +should say--has come to be very dear to me. As our souls have communed, +I have felt myself uplifted and inspired. I have been strengthened and +encouraged, as never before, to climb on toward the mountain peaks of +pure intellectuality. If I am not mistaken, you, too, have felt a degree +of uplift as a result of our fellowship, have you not?" + +"Yes, indeed, Professor Parkhill," Kitty answered sincerely. "Our talks +together have meant much more to me than I can tell. I shall never +forget this summer. Your friendship has been a wonderful influence in my +life." + +The little man moved uneasily and glanced timidly around. "I am truly +glad to know that our companionship has not been altogether distasteful +to you; I felt sure that it was not, but I--ahem!--I am glad to hear +your confirmation of my opinion. It--ah--it enables me to say that which +for several weeks past has been weighing heavily on my mind." + +Kitty looked at him with the manner of a trusting disciple waiting for +the gems of truth that were about to fall from the lips of a venerable +teacher. + +"Miss Reid--ah--why need our beautiful and mutually profitable +companionship cease?" + +"I fear that I do not understand, Professor Parkhill," she answered, +puzzled by his question. + +He looked at her with just a shade of mild--very mild--rebuke, as he +returned, "Why, I think that I have stated my thought clearly. I mean +that I am very desirous that our relation--the relation which we both +have found so helpful--should continue. I am sure that we have, in these +months which we have spent together, sufficient evidence that our souls +vibrate in perfect harmony. I need you, dear friend; your understanding +of my soul's desires is so sympathetic; I feel that you so complement +and fill out, as it were, my spiritual self. I need you to encourage, to +inspire, to assist me in the noble work to which I am devoting all my +strength." + +She looked at him, now, with an expression of amazement. "Do you mean--" +she faltered in confusion while the red blood colored her cheeks. + +"Yes," he answered, confidently. "I am asking you to be my wife. Not, +however," he added hastily, "in the common, vulgar understanding of that +relation. I am offering you, dear friend, that which is vastly higher +than the union of the merely animal, which is based wholly upon the +purely physical and material attraction. I am proposing marriage of our +souls--a union, if you please, of our higher intellectual and spiritual +selves. I feel, indeed, that by those higher laws which the vulgar, +beastlike minds are incapable of recognizing, we are already one. I +sense, as it were, that oneness which can exist only when two souls are +mated by the great over-soul; I feel that you are already mine--that, I +am--that we are already united in a spiritual union that is--" + +The young woman checked him with a gesture, which, had he interpreted it +rightly, was one of repulsion. "Please stop, Professor Parkhill," she +gasped in a tone of disgust. + +He was surprised, and not a little chagrined. "Am I to understand that +you do not reciprocate my sentiment, Miss Reid? Is it possible that I +have been so mistaken?" + +Kitty turned her head, as though she could not bear even to look at him. +"What you ask is so impossible," she said in a low tone. "Impossible!" + +Strive as she might, the young woman could not altogether hide her +feeling of abhorrence. And yet, she asked herself, why should this man's +proposal arouse in her such antagonism and repugnance? He was a scholar, +famed for his attainments in the world of the highest culture. As his +wife, she would be admitted at once into the very inner circle of that +life to which she aspired, and for which she was leaving her old home +and friends. He had couched his proposal in the very terms of the +spiritually and intellectually elect; he had declared himself in that +language which she had so proudly thought she understood, and in which +she had so often talked with him; and yet she was humiliated and +ashamed. It was, to her, as though, in placing his offer of marriage +upon the high, pure ground of a spiritual union, he had insulted her +womanhood. Kitty realized wonderingly that she had not felt like this +when Phil had confessed his love for her. In her woman heart, she was +proud and glad to have won the love of such a man as Phil, even though +she could not accept the cowboy as her mate. On that very spot which the +professor had chosen for his declaration, Patches had told her that she +was leaving the glorious and enduring realities of life for vain and +foolish bubbles--that she was throwing aside the good grain and choosing +the husks. Was this what Patches meant? she wondered. + +"I regret exceedingly, Miss Reid," the professor was saying, "that the +pure and lofty sentiments which I have voiced do not seem to find a like +response in your soul. I--" + +Again she interrupted him with that gesture of repulsion. "Please do not +say any more, Professor Parkhill. I--I fear that I am very human, after +all. Come, it is time that we were returning to the house." + +All through the remaining hours of that afternoon and evening Kitty was +disturbed and troubled. At times she wanted to laugh at the professor's +ridiculous proposal; and again, her cheeks burned with anger; and she +could have cried in her shame and humiliation. And with it all her mind +was distraught by the persistent question: Was not the professor's +conception of an ideal mating the legitimate and logical conclusion of +those very advanced ideas of culture which he represented, and which she +had so much admired? If she sincerely believed the life represented by +the professor and his kind so superior--so far above the life +represented by Phil Acton--why should she not feel honored instead of +being so humiliated and shamed by the professor's--she could not call it +love? If the life which Phil had asked her to share was so low in the +scale of civilization; if it were so far beneath the intellectual and +spiritual ideals which she had formed, why did she feel so honored by +the strong man's love? Why had she not felt humiliated and ashamed that +Phil should want her to mate with him? Could it be, she asked herself +again and again, that there was something, after all, superior to that +culture which she had so truly thought stood for the highest ideals of +the race? Could it be that, in the land of Granite Mountain, there was +something, after all, that was as superior to the things she had been +taught as Granite Mountain itself was superior in its primeval strength +and enduring grandeur to the man-made buildings of her school? + +It was not strange that Kitty's troubled thoughts should turn to Helen +Manning. Clearly, Helen's education had led to no confusion. On the +contrary, she had found an ideal love, and a happiness such as every +true, womanly woman must, in her heart of hearts, desire. + +It was far into the night when Kitty, wakeful and restless, heard the +sound of a horse's feet. She could not know that it was Honorable +Patches riding past on his way to the ranch on the other side of the +broad valley meadows. + +Weary in body, and with mind and spirit exhausted by the trials through +which he had passed, Patches crept to his bed. In the morning, when he +delivered his message, the Dean, seeing the man's face, urged him to +stay for the day at the ranch. But Patches said no; Phil was expecting +him, and he must return to the outfit in Granite Basin. As soon as +breakfast was over he set out. + +He had ridden as far as the head of Mint Wash, and had stopped to water +his horse, and to refresh himself with a cool drink and a brief rest +beside the fragrant mint-bordered spring, when he heard someone riding +rapidly up the wash the way he had come. A moment later, Kitty, riding +her favorite Midnight, rounded a jutting corner of the rocky wall of the +bluff. + +As the girl caught sight of him, there beside the spring, she waved her +hand in greeting. And the man, as he waved his answer, and watched her +riding toward him, felt a thrill of gladness that she had come. The +strong, true friendship that began with their very first meeting, when +she had been so frankly interested in the tenderfoot, and so kindly +helpful, and which had developed so steadily through the year, gave him, +now, a feeling of comfort and relief. Wearied and worn by his +disappointment and by his struggle with himself, with the cherished hope +that had enabled him to choose and endure the hard life of the range +brought to a sudden end, with his life itself made so empty and futile, +he welcomed his woman friend with a warmth and gladness that brought a +flush of pleasure to Kitty's cheek. + +For Kitty, too, had just passed through a humiliating and disappointing +experience. In her troubled frame of mind, and in her perplexed and +confused questioning, the young woman was as glad for the companionship +of Patches as he was glad to welcome her. She felt a curious sense of +relief and safety in his presence--somewhat as one, who, walking over +uncertain bogs or treacherous quicksands, finds, all at once, the solid +ground. + +"I saw you go past the house," she said, when she reached the spring +where he stood awaiting her, "and I decided right then that I would go +along with you to Granite Basin and visit my friends the Mannings. They +told me that I might come this week, and I think they have had quite +enough honeymooning, anyway. You know where they are camped, do you?" + +"Yes," he answered. "I saw them yesterday. But, come! Get down and cool +off a bit. You've been riding some, haven't you?" + +"I wanted to catch you as soon as I could," she laughed, as she sprang +lightly to the ground. "And you see you gained a good start while I was +getting Midnight saddled. What a pretty spot! I must have a drink of +that water this minute." + +"Sorry I have no cup," he said, and then he laughed with the pleasure of +good comradeship as she answered: + +"You forget that I was born to the customs of this country." And, +throwing aside her broad hat, she went down on the ground to drink from +the spring, even as he had done. + +As the man watched her, a sudden thought flashed into his mind--a +thought so startling, so unexpected, that he was for the moment +bewildered. + +"Talk about the nectar of the gods!" cried Kitty with a deep breath of +satisfaction, as she lifted her smiling face from the bright water to +look up at him. And then she drank again. + +"And now, if you please, sir, you may bring me some of that +water-cress; we'll sit over there in the shade, and who cares whether +Granite Basin, the Mannings, and your fellow cow-punchers, are fifteen +or fifty miles away?" + +He brought a generous bunch of the water-cress, and stretched himself +full length beside her, as she sat on the ground under a tall sycamore. + +"Selah!" he laughed contentedly. "We seem to lack only the book of +verses, the loaf and the jug; the wilderness is here, all right, and +that's a perfectly good bough up there, and, of course, you could +furnish the song; I might recite 'The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck,' +but, alas! we haven't even a flask and biscuit." + +"What a pity that you should be so near and yet so far from paradise!" +she retorted quickly. Then she added, with a mischievous smile, "It just +happens that I have a sandwich in my saddle pocket." + +"Won't you sing? Please do," he returned, with an eagerness that amused +her. + +But she shook her head reprovingly. "We would still lack the jug of +wine, you know, and, really, I don't think that paradise is for +cow-punchers, anyway, do you?" + +"Evidently not," he answered. And at her jesting words a queer feeling +of rebellion possessed him. Why should he be condemned to years of +loneliness? Why must he face a life without the companionship of a mate? +If the paradise he had sought so hard to attain were denied him, why +should he not still take what happiness he might? + +He was lying flat on his back, his hands clasped beneath his head, +watching an eagle that wheeled, a tiny black speck, high under the blue +arch of the sky. He seemed to have forgotten his companion. + +Kitty leaned toward him, and held a sprig of water-cress over his +upturned face. "I haven't a penny," she said, "but I'll give you this." + +He sat up quickly. "Even at that price, my thoughts might cost you too +much. But you haven't told me what you have done with our dear friend +the professor? Haven't you a guilty conscience, deserting him like +this?" + +Kitty held up both hands in a gesture of dismay. "Don't, Patches, please +don't. Ugh! if you only knew how good it is to be with a _man_ again!" + +He laughed aloud in a spirit of reckless defiance. "And Phil is over in +Granite Basin. I neglected to tell you that he knows the location of the +Mannings' camp, as well as I." + +Kitty was a little puzzled by the tone of his laughter, and by his +words. She spoke gravely. "Perhaps I should tell you, Patches--we have +been such good friends, you and I--Phil--" + +"Yes!" he said. + +"Phil is nothing to me, Patches. I mean--" + +"You mean in the way he wanted to be?" He helped her with a touch of +eager readiness. + +"Yes." + +"And have you told him, Kitty?" Patches asked gently. + +"Yes--I have told him," she replied. + +Patches was silent for a moment. Then, "Poor Phil!" he said softly. "I +understand now; I thought that was it. He is a man among thousands, +Kitty." + +"I know--I know," she returned, as though to dismiss the subject. "But +it simply couldn't be." + +Patches was looking at her intently, with an expression in his dark eyes +that Kitty had never before seen. The man's mind was in a whirl of quick +excitement. As they had talked and laughed together, the thought that +had so startled him, when her manner of familiar comradeship had brought +such a feeling of comfort to his troubled spirit, had not left him. From +that first moment of their meeting a year before there had been that +feeling between them, of companionship, a feeling which had grown as +their acquaintance had developed into the intimate friendship that had +allowed him to speak to her as he had spoken that day under the cedars +on the ridge. What might that friendship not grow into! He thought of +her desire for the life that he knew so well, and how he could, while +granting every wish of her heart, yet protect her from the shams and +falseness. And with these thoughts was that feeling of rebellion against +the loneliness of his life. + +Kitty's words regarding Phil removed the barrier, as it were, and the +man's nature, which prompted him so often to act without pausing to +consider, betrayed him into saying, "Would you be greatly shocked, +Kitty, if I were to tell you that I am glad? That, while I am sorry for +Phil, I am glad that you have said no to him?" + +"You are glad?" she said wonderingly. "Why?" + +"Because, now, _I_ am free to say what I could not have said had you not +told me what you have. I want you, Kitty. I want to fill your life with +beauty and happiness and contentment. I want you to go with me to see +and know the natural wonders of the world, and the wonders that men have +wrought. I want to surround you with the beauties of art and literature, +with everything that your heart craves. I want you to know the people +whose friendship would be a delight to you. Come with me, girl--be my +wife, and together we will find--if not paradise, at least a full and +useful and contented and happy life. Will you come, Kitty? Will you come +with me?" + +As she listened her eyes grew big with wonder and delight. It was as +though some good genie had suddenly opened wide the way to an enchanted +laud. Then the gladness went swiftly from her face, and she said +doubtingly, "You are jesting with me, Patches." + +As she spoke his cowboy name, the man laughed aloud. "I forgot that you +do not even know me--I mean, that you do not know my name." + +"Are you some fairy prince in disguise, Sir Patches?" + +"Not a fairy, dear, and certainly not a prince; just a man, that's all. +But a man, dear girl, who can offer you a clean life, an honored name, +and all of which I have spoken. But I must tell you--I always knew that +I would tell you some day, but I did not dream that it would be to-day. +My name is Lawrence Knight. My home is in Cleveland, Ohio. Your father +can easily satisfy himself as to my family and my own personal life and +standing. It is enough for me to assure you now, dear, that I am +abundantly able to give you all that I have promised." + +At the mention of his name, Kitty's eyes grew bright again. Thanks to +her intimate friend and schoolmate, Helen Manning, she knew much more of +Lawrence Knight than that gentleman supposed. + +"But, tell me," she asked curiously, trembling with suppressed +excitement, "why is Mr. Lawrence Knight masquerading here as the cowboy +Honorable Patches?" + +He answered earnestly. "I know it must seem strange to you, dear, but +the simple truth is that I became ashamed of myself and my life of idle +uselessness. I determined to see if I could take my place among men, +simply as a man. I wanted to be accepted by men for myself, for my +manhood, if you like, and not because of my--" he hesitated, then said +frankly--"my money and social position. I wanted to depend upon +myself--to live as other men live, by my own strength and courage and +work. If I had given my real name, when I asked for work at the +Cross-Triangle--someone would have found me out before very long, and my +little experiment would have failed, don't you see?" + +While he spoke, Kitty's excited mind had caught at many thoughts. She +believed sincerely that her girlhood love for Phil was dead. This man, +even as Patches the cowboy, with a questionable shadow on his life, had +compelled her respect and confidence, while in his evident education and +social culture he had won her deepest admiration. She felt that he was +all that Phil was, and more. There was in her feeling toward him, as he +offered himself to her now, no hint of that instinctive repulsion and +abhorrence with which she had received Professor Parkhill's declaration +of spiritual affinity. Her recent experience with the Master of +Aesthetics had so outraged her womanly instincts that the inevitable +reaction from her perplexed and troubled mind led her to feel more +deeply, and to be drawn more strongly, toward this man with whom any +woman might be proud to mate. At the same time, the attractions of the +life which she knew he could give her, and for which she longed so +passionately, with the relief of the thought that her parents would not +need to sacrifice themselves for her, were potent factors in the power +of Lawrence Knight's appeal. + +"It would be wonderful," she said musingly. "I have dreamed and dreamed +about such things." + +"You will come with me, dear? You will let me give you your heart's +wish--you will go with me into the life for which you are so fitted?" + +"Do you really want me, Patches?" she asked timidly, as though in her +mind there was still a shadow of doubt. + +"More than anything in the world," he urged. "Say yes. Kitty. Say that +you will be my wife." + +The answer came softly, with a hint of questioning, still. + +"Yes." + +Kitty did not notice that the man had not spoken of his love for her. +There were so many other things for her to consider, so many other +things to distract her mind. Nor did the man notice that Kitty herself +had failed to speak in any way that little word, which, rightly +understood, holds in its fullest, deepest meaning, all of life's +happiness--of labor and accomplishment--of success and triumph--of +sacrifice and sorrow; holds, in its fullest, deepest meaning, indeed, +all of life itself. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ON CEDAR RIDGE. + + +Kitty's friends were very glad to welcome her at their camp in Granite +Basin. The incident which had so rudely broken the seclusion of their +honeymoon had been too nearly a tragedy to be easily forgotten. The +charm of the place was, in some degree, for them, lost, and Kitty's +coming helped to dispel the cloud that had a little overshadowed those +last days of their outing. + +It was not at all difficult for them to persuade Kitty to remain longer +than the one night that she had planned, and to accompany them to +Prescott. Prom Prescott, Stanford must go to the mines, to take up his +work, and to arrange for Helen's coming later, and Helen would go home +with Kitty for the visit she had promised. The cowboys, who were +returning to the Cross-Triangle Ranch, would take Kitty's horse to her +home, and would carry a message explaining the young woman's absence, +and asking that someone be sent to Prescott with the clothing she would +need in town, and that the Reid automobile might be in Prescott in +readiness to take the two young women back to the ranch on the +appointed day. + +Kitty could not bring herself to tell even Helen about her engagement to +Lawrence Knight, or Patches, as she would continue to call him until the +time came for the cowboy himself to make his true name and character +known. It had all happened so suddenly; the promises of the future were +so wonderful--so far beyond the young woman's fondest dreams--that she +herself could scarcely realize the truth. There would be time enough to +tell Helen when they were together at the ranch. And she was insistent, +too, that Patches must not interview her father until she herself had +returned home. + +Phil and his cowboys with the cattle reached the Cross-Triangle corrals +the evening before the day set for Kitty and Helen to arrive at the +ranch on the other side of the valley meadows. The Cross-Triangle men +were greeted by the news that Professor Parkhill had said good-by to +Williamson Valley, and that the Pot-Hook-S Ranch had been sold. The +eastern purchaser expected by Reid had arrived on the day that Kitty had +gone to Granite Basin, and the deal had been closed without delay. But +Reid was not to give possession of the property until after the fall +rodeo. + +As the men sat under the walnut trees with the Dean that evening, +discussing the incidents of the Granite Basin work, and speculating +about the new owner of the neighboring ranch, Phil sat with Little Billy +apart from the circle, and contributed to the conversation only now and +then a word or a brief answer to some question. When Mrs. Baldwin +persuaded the child that it was bedtime, Phil slipped quietly away in +the darkness, and they did not see him again until breakfast the next +morning. When breakfast was over, the foreman gave a few directions to +his men, and rode away alone. + +The Dean, understanding the lad, whom he loved as one of his own sons, +watched him go without a word or a question. To Mrs. Baldwin he said, +"Just let him alone, Stella. The boy is all right. He's only gone off +somewhere on the range to fight it out alone. Most likely he'll put in +the day watching those wild horses over beyond Toohey. He generally goes +to them when he's bothered about anything or in trouble of any sort." + +Patches, who had been sent on an errand of some kind to Fair Oaks, was +returning home early in the afternoon, and had reached the neighborhood +of that spring where he had first encountered Nick Cambert, when he +heard a calf bawling lustily somewhere in the cedar timber not far away. +Familiar as he now was with the voices of the range, the cowboy knew +that the calf was in trouble. The call was one of fright and pain. + +Turning aside from his course, he rode, rapidly at first, then more +cautiously, toward the sound. Presently he caught a whiff of smoke that +came with the light breeze from somewhere ahead on the ridge along which +he was riding. Instantly he rode into a thick clump of cedars, and, +dismounting, tied his horse. Then he went on, carefully and silently, on +foot. Soon he heard voices. Again the calf bawled in fright and pain, +and the familiar odor of burning hair was carried to him on the breeze. +Someone was branding a calf. + +It might be all right--it might not. Patches was unarmed, but, with +characteristic disregard of consequences, he crept softly forward, +toward a dense growth of trees and brush, from beyond which the noise +and the smoke seemed to come. + +He had barely gained the cover when he heard someone on the other side +ride rapidly away down the ridge. Hastily parting the bushes, he looked +through to catch a glimpse of the horseman, but he was a moment too +late; the rider had disappeared from sight in the timber. But, in a +little open space among the cedars, the cowboy saw Yavapai Joe, standing +beside a calf, fresh-branded with the Four-Bar-M iron, and earmarked +with the Tailholt marks. + +Patches knew instantly, as well as though he had witnessed the actual +branding, what, had happened. That part of the range was seldom visited +except by the Dean's cowboys, and the Tailholt Mountain men, knowing +that the Cross-Triangle riders were all at Granite Basin, were making +good use of their opportunities. The man who had ridden away so +hurriedly, a moment too soon for Patches to see him, was, without doubt, +driving the mother of the calf to a distance that would effectually +separate her from her offspring. + +But while he was so sure in his own mind, the Cross-Triangle man--as it +had so often happened before--had arrived on the scene too late. He had +no positive evidence that the animal just branded was not the lawful +property of Nick Cambert. + +As Patches stepped from the bushes, Yavapai Joe faced him for a moment +in guilty astonishment and fear; then he ran toward his horse. + +"Wait a minute, Joe!" called Patches. "What good will it do for you to +run now? I'm not going to harm you." + +Joe stopped, and stood hesitating in indecision, watching the intruder +with that sneaking, sidewise look. + +"Come on, Joe; let's have a little talk about this business," the +Cross-Triangle man said in a matter-of-fact tone, as he seated himself +on a large, flat-topped stone near the little fire. "You know you can't +get away, so you might as well." + +"I ain't tellin' nothin' to nobody," said Joe sullenly, as he came +slowly toward the Dean's cowboy. + +"No?" said Patches. + +"No, I ain't," asserted the Tailholt Mountain man stoutly. "That there +calf is a Four-Bar-M calf, all right." + +"I see it is," returned the Cross-Triangle rider calmly. "But I'll just +wait until Nick gets back, and ask him what it was before he worked over +the iron." + +Joe, excited and confused by the cool nerve of this man, fell readily +into the verbal trap. + +"You better go now, an' not wait to ask Nick no fool questions like +that. If he finds you here talkin' with me when he gets back, hell'll be +a-poppin' fer sure. Me an' you are friends, Patches, an' that's why I'm +a-tellin' you you better pull your freight while the goin's good." + +"Much obliged, Joe, but there's no hurry. You don't need to be so +rushed. It will be an hour before Nick gets back, if he drives that cow +as far as he ought." + +Again poor Yavapai Joe told more than he intended. "You don't need to +worry none 'bout Nick; he'll sure drive her far enough. He ain't takin' +no chances, Nick ain't." + +With his convictions so readily confirmed, Patches had good ground upon +which to base his following remarks. He had made a long shot when he +spoke so confidently of the brand on the calf being worked over. For, of +course, the calf might not have been branded at all when the Tailholt +Mountain men caught it. But Joe's manner, as well as his warning answer, +told that the shot had gone home. The fact that the brand had been +worked over established also the fact that it was the Cross-Triangle +brand that had been changed, because the Cross-Triangle was the only +brand in that part of the country that could be changed into the +Four-Bar-M. + +Patches, dropping his easy manner, and speaking straight to the point, +said, "Look here, Joe, you and I might as well get down to cases. You +know I am your friend, and I don't want to see you in trouble, but you +can take it from me that you are in mighty serious trouble right now. I +was hiding right there in those bushes, close enough to see all that +happened, and I know that this is a Cross-Triangle calf, and that Nick +and you worked the brand over. You know that it means the penitentiary +for you, as well as for Nick, if the boys don't string you both up +without any ceremony." + +Patches paused to let his words sink in. + +Joe's face was ashy white, and he was shaking with fright, as he stole a +sneaking look toward his horse. + +Patches added sharply, "You can't give me the slip, either; I can kill +you before you get half way to your horse." + +Trapped and helpless, Joe looked pleadingly at his captor. "You wouldn't +send me up, would you, now, Patches?" he whined. "You an' me's good +friends, ain't we? Anyway he wouldn't let me go to the pen, an' the boys +wouldn't dast do nothin' to me when they knew." + +"Whom are you talking about?" demanded Patches. "Nick? Don't be a fool, +Joe; Nick will be there right alongside of you." + +"I ain't meanin' Nick; I mean _him_ over there at the +Cross-Triangle--Professor Parkhill. I'm a-tellin' you that _he_ wouldn't +let you do nothin' to me." + +"Forget it, Joe," came the reply, without an instant's hesitation. "You +know as well as I do how much chance Professor Parkhill, or anyone else, +would have, trying to keep the boys from making you and Nick dance on +nothing, once they hear of this. Besides, the professor is not in the +valley now." + +The poor outcast's fright was pitiful. "You ain't meanin' that he--that +he's gone?" he gasped. + +"Listen, Joe," said Patches quickly. "I can do more for you than he +could, even if he were here. You know I am your friend, and I don't want +to see a good fellow like you sent to prison for fifteen or twenty +years, or, perhaps, hanged. But there's only one way that I can see for +me to save you. You must go with me to the Cross-Triangle, and tell Mr. +Baldwin all about it, how you were just working for Nick, and how he +made you help him do this, and all that you know. If you do that, we can +get you off." + +"I--I reckon you're right, Patches," returned the frightened weakling +sullenly. "Nick has sure treated me like a dog, anyway. You won't let +Nick get at me, will you, if I go?" + +"Nobody can get at you, Joe, if you go with me, and do the square thing. +I'm going to take care of you myself, and help you to get out of this, +and brace up and be a man. Come on; let's be moving. I'll turn this calf +loose first, though." + +He was bending over the calf when a noise in the brush caused him to +stand suddenly erect. + +Joe was whimpering with terror. + +Patches said fiercely, but in a low tone, "Shut up, and follow my lead. +Be a man, and I'll get you out of this yet." + +"Nick will kill us sure," whined Joe. + +"Not if I get my hands on him first, he won't," retorted Patches. + +But it was with a feeling of relief that the cowboy saw Phil Acton ride +toward them from the shelter of the timber. + +Before Patches could speak, Phil's gun covered him, and the foreman's +voice rang out sharply. + +"Hands up!" + +Joe's hands shot above his head. Patches hesitated. + +"Quick!" said Phil. + +And as Patches saw the man's eyes over the black barrel of the weapon he +obeyed. But as he raised his hands, a dull flush of anger colored his +tanned face a deeper red, and his eyes grew dark with passion. He +realized his situation instantly. The mystery that surrounded his first +appearance when he had sought employment at the Cross-Triangle; the +persistent suspicion of many of the cowboys because of his friendship +for Yavapai Joe; his meeting with Joe which the professor had reported; +his refusal to explain to Phil; his return to the ranch when everyone +was away and he himself was supposed to be in Prescott--all these and +many other incidents had come to their legitimate climax in his presence +on that spot with Yavapai Joe, the smouldering fire and the freshly +branded calf. He was unarmed, but Phil could not be sure of that, for +many a cowboy carries his gun inside the leg of his leather chaps, where +it does not so easily catch in the brush. + +But while Patches saw it all so clearly, he was enraged that this man +with whom he had lived so intimately should believe him capable of such +a crime, and treat him without question as a common cattle thief. Phil's +coldness toward him, which had grown so gradually during the past three +months, in this peremptory humiliation reached a point beyond which +Patches' patient and considerate endurance could not go. The man's sense +of justice was outraged; his fine feeling of honor was insulted. Trapped +and helpless as he was under that menacing gun, he was possessed by a +determination to defend himself against the accusation, and to teach +Phil Acton that there was a limit to the insult he would endure, even in +the name of friendship. To this end his only hope was to trap his +foreman with words, as he had caught Yavapai Joe. At a game of words +Honorable Patches was no unskilled novice. Controlling his anger, he +said coolly, with biting sarcasm, while he looked at the cowboy with a +mocking sneer, "You don't propose to take any chances, do you--holding +up an unarmed man?" + +Patches saw by the flush that swept over Phil's cheeks how his words +bit. + +"It doesn't pay to take chances with your kind," retorted the foreman +hotly. + +"No," mocked Patches, "but it will pay big, I suppose, for the great +'Wild Horse Phil' to be branded as a sneak and a coward who is afraid to +face an unarmed man unless he can get the drop on him?" + +Phil was goaded to madness by the cool, mocking words. With a reckless +laugh, he slipped his weapon into the holster and sprang to the ground. +At the same moment Patches and Joe lowered their hands, and Joe, +unnoticed by either of the angry men, took a few stealthy steps toward +his horse. + +Phil, deliberately folding his arms, stood looking at Patches. + +"I'll just call that bluff, you sneakin' calf stealer," he said coolly. +"Now, unlimber that gun of yours, and get busy." + +Angry as he was, Patches felt a thrill of admiration for the man, and +beneath his determination to force Phil Acton to treat him with respect, +he was proud of his friend who had answered his sneering insinuation +with such fearlessness. But he could not now hesitate in his plan of +provoking Phil into disarming himself. + +"You're something of a four-flusher yourself, aren't you?" he mocked. +"You know I have no gun. Your brave pose is very effective. I would +congratulate you, only, you see, it doesn't impress me in the least." + +With an oath Phil snatched his gun from the holster, and threw it aside. + +"Have it any way you like," he retorted, and started toward Patches. + +Then a curious thing happened to Honorable Patches. Angry as he was, he +became suddenly dominated by something that was more potent than his +rage. + +"Stop!" he cried sharply, and with such ringing force that Phil +involuntarily obeyed. "I can't fight you this way, Phil," he said; and +the other, wondering, saw that whimsical, self-mocking smile on his +lips. "You know as well as I do that you are no match for me barehanded. +You couldn't even touch me; you have seen Curly and the others try it +often enough. You are as helpless in my power, now, as I was in yours a +moment ago. I am armed now and you are not. I can't fight you this way, +Phil." + +In spite of himself Phil Acton was impressed by the truth and fairness +of Patches' words. He recognized that an unequal contest could satisfy +neither of them, and that it made no difference which of the contestants +had the advantage. + +"Well," he said sarcastically, "what are you going to do about it?" + +"First," returned Patches calmly, "I am going to tell you how I happened +to be here with Yavapai Joe." + +"I don't need any explanations from you. It's some more of your personal +business, I suppose," retorted Phil. + +Patches controlled himself. "You are going to hear the explanation, just +the same," he returned. "You can believe it or not, just as you please." + +"And what then?" demanded Phil. + +"Then I'm going to get a gun, and we'll settle the rest of it, man to +man, on equal terms, just as soon as you like," answered Patches +deliberately. + +Phil replied shortly. "Go ahead with your palaver. I'll have to hand it +to you when it comes to talk. I am not educated that way myself." + +For a moment Patches hesitated, as though on the point of changing his +mind about the explanation. Then his sense of justice--justice both for +Phil and himself--conquered. + +But in telling Phil how he had come upon the scene too late for positive +proof that the freshly branded calf was the Dean's property, and in +explaining how, when the foreman arrived, he had just persuaded Joe to +go with him and give the necessary evidence against Nick, Patches forgot +the possible effect of his words upon Joe himself. The two +Cross-Triangle men were so absorbed in their own affair that they had +paid no attention to the Tailholt Mountain outcast. And Joe, taking +advantage of the opportunity, had by this time gained a position beside +his horse. As he heard Patches tell how he had no actual evidence that +the calf was not Nick Cambert's property, a look of anger and cunning +darkened the face of Nick's follower. He was angry at the way Patches +had tricked him into betraying both himself and his evil master, and he +saw a way to defeat the two cowboys and at the same time win Nick's +approval. Quickly the fellow mounted his horse, and, before they could +stop him, was out of sight in the timber. + +"I've done it now," exclaimed Patches in dismay. "I forgot all about +Joe." + +"I don't think he counts for much in this game anyway," returned Phil, +gruffly. + +As he spoke, the foreman turned his back to Patches and walked toward +his gun. He had reached the spot where the weapon lay on the ground, +when, from the bushes to the right, and a little back of Patches, who +stood watching his companion, a shot rang out with startling suddenness. + +Patches saw Phil stumble forward, straighten for an instant, as though +by sheer power of his will, and, turning, look back at him. Then, as +Phil fell, the unarmed cowboy leaped forward toward that gun on the +ground. Even as he moved, a second shot rang out and he felt the wind of +the bullet on his cheek. With Phil's gun in his hand, he ran toward a +cedar tree on the side of the open space opposite the point from which +the shots came, and as he ran another bullet whistled past. + +A man moving as Patches moved is not an easy mark. The same man armed, +and protected by the trunk of a tree, is still more difficult. A moment +after he had gained cover, the cowboy heard the clatter of a horse's +feet, near the spot from which the shots had come, and by the sound knew +that the unseen marksman had chosen to retire with only half his evident +purpose accomplished, rather than take the risk that had arisen with +Patches' success in turning the ambush into an open fight. + +As the sound of the horse's swift rush down the side of the ridge grew +fainter and fainter, Patches ran to Phil. + +A quick examination told him that the bullet had entered just under the +right shoulder, and that the man, though unconscious and, no doubt, +seriously wounded, was living. + +With rude bandages made by tearing his shirt into strips Patches checked +the flow of blood, and bound up the wound as best he could. Then for a +moment he considered. It was between three and four miles to the ranch. +He could ride there and back in a few minutes. Someone must start for a +doctor without an instant's loss of time. With water, proper bandages +and stimulants, the wounded man could be cared for and moved in the +buckboard with much greater safety than he could be carried in his +present condition on a horse. The risk of leaving him for a few minutes +was small, compared to the risk of taking him to the house under the +only conditions possible. The next instant Patches was in Phil's saddle +and riding as he had never ridden before. + +Jim Reid, with Kitty and Helen, was on the way back from Prescott as +Kitty had planned. They were within ten miles of the ranch when the +cattleman, who sat at the wheel of the automobile, saw a horseman coming +toward them. A moment he watched the approaching figure, then, over his +shoulder, he said to the girls, "Look at that fellow ride. There's +something doin', sure." As he spoke he turned the machine well out of +the road. + +A moment later he added, "It's Curly Elson from the Cross-Triangle. +Somethin's happened in the valley." As he spoke, he stopped the machine, +and sprang out so that the cowboy could see and recognize him. + +Curly did not draw rein until he was within a few feet of Reid; then he +brought his running horse up with a suddenness that threw the animal on +its haunches. + +Curly spoke tersely. "Phil Acton is shot. We need a doctor quick." + +Without a word Jim Reid leaped into the automobile. The car backed to +turn around. As it paused an instant before starting forward again, +Kitty put her hand on her father's shoulder. + +"Wait!" she cried. "I'm going to Phil. Curly, I want your horse; you can +go with father." + +The cowboy was on the ground before she had finished speaking. And +before the automobile was under way Kitty was riding back the way Curly +had come. + +Kitty was scarcely conscious of what she had said. The cowboy's first +words had struck her with the force of a physical blow, and in that +first moment, she had been weak and helpless. She had felt as though a +heavy weight pressed her down; a gray mist was before her eyes, and she +could not see clearly. "Phil Acton is shot--Phil Acton is shot!" The +cowboy's words had repeated themselves over and over. Then, with a +sudden rush, her strength came again--the mist cleared; she must go to +Phil; she must go fast, fast. Oh, why was this horse so slow! If only +she were riding her own Midnight! She did not think as she rode. She did +not wonder, nor question, nor analyze her emotions. She only felt. It +was Phil who was hurt--Phil, the boy with whom she had played when she +was a little girl--the lad with whom she had gone to school--the young +man who had won the first love of her young woman heart. It was Phil, +her Phil, who was hurt, and she must go to him--she must go fast, fast! + +It seemed to Kitty that hours passed before she reached the meadow lane. +She was glad that Curly had left the gates open. As she crossed the +familiar ground between the old Acton home and the ranch house on the +other side of the sandy wash, she saw them. They were carrying him into +the house as she rode into the yard, and at sight of that still form the +gray mist came again, and she caught the saddle horn to save herself +from falling. But it was only a moment until she was strong again, and +ready to do all that Mrs. Baldwin asked. + +Phil had regained consciousness before they started home with him, but +he was very weak from the loss of blood and the journey in the +buckboard, though Bob drove ever so carefully, was almost more than he +could bear. But with the relief that came when he was at last lying +quietly in his own bed, and with the help of the stimulant, the splendid +physical strength and vitality that was his because of his natural and +unspoiled life again brought him back from the shadows into the light of +full consciousness. + +It was then that the Dean, while Mrs. Baldwin and Kitty were occupied +for a few moments in another part of the house, listened to all that his +foreman could tell him about the affair up to the time that he had +fallen unconscious. The Dean asked but few questions. But when the +details were all clearly fixed in his mind, the older man bent over Phil +and looked straight into the lad's clear and steady eyes, while he asked +in a low tone, "Phil, did Patches do this?" + +And the young man answered, "Uncle Will, I don't know." + +With this he closed his eyes wearily, as though to sleep, and the Dean, +seeing Kitty in the doorway, beckoned her to come and sit beside the +bed. Then he stole quietly from the room. + +As in a dream Phil had seen Kitty when she rode into the yard. And he +had been conscious of her presence as she moved about the house and the +room where he lay. But he had given no sign that he knew she was there. +As she seated herself, at the Dean's bidding, the cowboy opened his eyes +for a moment, and looked up into her face. Then again the weary lids +closed, and he gave no hint that he recognized her, save that the white +lips set in firmer lines as though at another stab of pain. + +As she watched alone beside this man who had, since she could remember, +been a part of her life, and as she realized that he was on the very +border line of that land from which, if he entered, he could never +return to her, Kitty Reid knew the truth that is greater than any +knowledge that the schools of man can give. She knew the one great truth +of her womanhood; knew it not from text book or class room; not from +learned professor or cultured associates; but knew it from that good +Master of Life who, with infinite wisdom, teaches his many pupils who +are free to learn in the school of schools, the School of Nature. In +that hour when the near presence of death so overshadowed all the +trivial and non-essential things of life--when the little standards and +petty values of poor human endeavor were as nothing--this woman knew +that by the unwritten edict of God, who decreed that in all life two +should be as one, this man was her only lawful mate. Environment, +circumstance, that which we call culture and education, even death, +might separate them; but nothing could nullify the fact that was +attested by the instinct of her womanhood. Bending over the man who lay +so still, she whispered the imperative will of her heart. + +"Come back to me, Phil--I want you--I need you, dear--come back to me!" + +Slowly he came out of the mists of weakness and pain to look up at +her--doubtfully--wonderingly. But there was a light in Kitty's face that +dispelled the doubt, and changed the look of wondering uncertainty to +glad conviction. He did not speak. No word was necessary. Nor did he +move, for he must be very still, and hold fast with all his strength to +the life that was now so good. But the woman knew without words all that +he would have said, and as his eyes closed again she bowed her head in +thankfulness. + +Then rising she stole softly to the window. She felt that she must look +out for a moment into the world that was so suddenly new and beautiful. + +Under the walnut trees she saw the Dean talking with the man whom she +had promised to marry. + +Later Mr. Reid, with Helen and Curly, brought the doctor, and the noise +of the automobile summoned every soul on the place to wait for the +physician's verdict of life or death. + +While the Dean was in Phil's room with the physician, and the anxious +ones were gathered in a little group in front of the house, Jim Reid +stood apart from the others talking in low tones with the cowboy Bob. +Patches, who was standing behind the automobile, heard Bob, who had +raised his voice a little, say distinctly, "I tell you, sir, there ain't +a bit of doubt in the world about it. There was the calf a layin' right +there fresh-branded and marked. He'd plumb forgot to turn it loose, I +reckon, bein' naturally rattled; or else he figgered that it warn't no +use, if Phil should be able to tell what happened. The way I make it out +is that Phil jumped him right in the act, so sudden that he shot without +thinkin'; you know how he acts quick that-a-way. An' then he seen what +he had done, an' that it was more than an even break that Phil wouldn't +live, an' so figgered that his chance was better to stay an' run a bluff +by comin' for help, an' all that. If he'd tried to make his get-away, +there wouldn't 'a' been no question about it; an' he's got just nerve +enough to take the chance he's a-takin' by stayin' right with the game." + +Patches started as though to go toward the men, but at that moment the +doctor came from the house. As the physician approached the waiting +group, that odd, mirthless, self-mocking smile touched Patches' lips; +then he stepped forward to listen with the others to the doctor's words. + +Phil had a chance, the doctor said, but he told them frankly that it was +only a chance. The injured man's wonderful vitality, his clean blood and +unimpaired physical strength, together with his unshaken nerve and an +indomitable will, were all greatly in his favor. With careful nursing +they might with reason hope for his recovery. + +With expressions of relief, the group separated. Patches walked away +alone. Mr. Reid, who would return to Prescott with the doctor, said to +his daughter when the physician was ready, "Come, Kitty, I'll go by the +house, so as to take you and Mrs. Manning home." + +But Kitty shook her head. "No, father. I'm not going home. Stella needs +me here. Helen understands, don't you, Helen?" + +And wise Mrs. Manning, seeing in Kitty's face something that the man had +not observed, answered, "Yes, dear, I do understand. You must stay, of +course. I'll run over again in the morning." + +"Very well," answered Mr. Reid, who seemed in somewhat of a hurry. "I +know you ought to stay. Tell Stella that mother will be over for a +little while this evening." And the automobile moved away. + +That night, while Mrs. Baldwin and Kitty watched by Phil's bedside, and +Patches, in his room, waited, sleepless, alone with his thoughts, men +from the ranch on the other side of the quiet meadow were riding swiftly +through the darkness. Before the new day had driven the stars from the +wide sky, a little company of silent, grim-faced horsemen gathered in +the Pot-Hook-S corral. In the dim, gray light of the early morning they +followed Jim Reid out of the corral, and, riding fast, crossed the +valley above the meadows and approached the Cross-Triangle corrals from +the west. One man in the company led a horse with an empty saddle. Just +beyond the little rise of ground outside the big gate they halted, while +Jim Reid with two others, leaving their horses with the silent riders +behind the hill, went on into the corral, where they seated themselves +on the edge of the long watering trough near the tank, which hid them +from the house. + +Fifteen minutes later, when the Dean stepped from the kitchen porch, he +saw Curly running toward the house. As the older man hurried toward him, +the cowboy, pale with excitement and anger, cried, "They've got him, +sir--grabbed him when he went out to the corral." + +The Dean understood instantly. "My horse, quick, Curly," he said, and +hurried on toward the saddle shed. "Which way did they go?" he asked, as +he mounted. + +"Toward the cedars on the ridge where it happened," came the answer. "Do +you want me?" + +"No. Don't let them know in the house," came the reply. And the Dean was +gone. + +The little company of horsemen, with Patches in their midst, had reached +the scene of the shooting, and had made their simple preparations. From +that moment when they had covered him with their guns as he stepped +through the corral gate, he had not spoken. + +"Well, sir," said the spokesman, "have you anything to say before we +proceed?" + +Patches shook his head, and wonderingly they saw that curious mocking +smile on his lips. + +"I don't suppose that any remarks I might make would impress you +gentlemen in the least," he said coolly. "It would be useless and unkind +for me to detain you longer than is necessary." + +An involuntary murmur of admiration came from the circle. They were men +who could appreciate such unflinching courage. + +In the short pause that followed, the Dean, riding as he had not ridden +for years, was in their midst. Before they could check him the veteran +cowman was beside Patches. With a quick motion he snatched the riata +from the cowboy's neck. An instant more, and he had cut the rope that +bound Patches' hands. + +"Thank you, sir," said Patches calmly. + +"Don't do that, Will," called Jim Reid peremptorily. "This is our +business." In the same breath he shouted to his companions, "Take him +again, boys," and started forward. + +"Stand where you are," roared the Dean, and as they looked upon the +stern countenance of the man who was so respected and loved throughout +all that country, not a man moved. Reid himself involuntarily halted at +the command. + +"I'll do this and more, Jim Reid," said the Dean firmly, and there was +that in his voice which, in the wild days of the past, had compelled +many a man to fear and obey him. "It's my business enough that you can +call this meetin' off right here. I'll be responsible for this man. You +boys mean well, but you're a little mite too previous this trip." + +"We aim to put a stop to that thievin' Tailholt Mountain outfit, Will," +returned Reid, "an' we're goin' to do it right now." + +A murmur of agreement came from the group. + +The Dean did not give an inch. "You'll put a stop to nothin' this way; +an' you'll sure start somethin' that'll be more than stealin' a few +calves. The time for stringin' men up promiscuous like, on mere +suspicion, is past in Arizona. I reckon there's more Cross-Triangle +stock branded with the Tailholt Mountain iron than all the rest of you +put together have lost, which sure entitles me to a front seat when it +comes, to the show-down." + +"He's right, boys," said one of the older men. + +"You know I'm right, Tom," returned the Dean quickly. "You an' me have +lived neighbors for pretty near thirty years, without ever a hard word +passed between us, an' we've been through some mighty serious troubles +together; an' you, too, George, an' Henry an' Bill. The rest of you boys +I have known since you was little kids; an' me and your daddies worked +an' fought side by side for decent livin' an' law-abidin' times before +you was born. We did it 'cause we didn't want our children to go through +with what we had to go through, or do some of the things that we had to +do. An' now you're all thinkin' that you can cut me out of this. You +think you can sneak out here before I'm out of my bed in the mornin', +an' hang one of my own cowboys--as good a man as ever throwed a rope, +too. Without sayin' a word to me, you come crawlin' right into my own +corral, an' start to raisin' hell. I'm here to tell you that you can't +do it. You can't do it because I won't let you." + +The men, with downcast eyes, sat on their horses, ashamed. Two or three +muttered approval. Jim Reid said earnestly, "That's all right, Will. We +knew how you would feel, an' we were just aimin' to save you any more +trouble. Them Tailholt Mountain thieves have gone too far this time. We +can't let you turn that man loose." + +"I ain't goin' to try to turn him loose," retorted the Dean. + +The men looked at each other. + +"What are you goin' to do, then?" asked the spokesman. + +"I'm goin' to make you turn him loose," came the startling answer. "You +fellows took him; you've got to let him go." + +In spite of the grave situation several of the men grinned at the Dean's +answer--it was so like him. + +"I'll bet a steer he does it, too," whispered one. + +The Dean turned to the man by his side. "Patches, tell these men all +that you told me about this business." + +When the cowboy had told his story in detail, up to the point where Phil +came upon the scene, the Dean interrupted him, "Now, get down there an' +show us exactly how it happened after Phil rode on to you an' Yavapai +Joe." + +Patches obeyed. As he was showing them where Phil stood when the shot +was fired the Dean again interrupted with, "Wait a minute. Tom, you get +down there an' stand just as Phil was standin'." + +The cattleman obeyed. + +When he had taken the position, the Dean continued, "Now, Patches, +stand like you was when Phil was hit." + +Patches obeyed. + +"Now, then, where did that shot come from?" asked the Dean. + +Patches pointed. + +The Dean did not need to direct the next step in his demonstration. +Three of the men were already off their horses, and moving around the +bushes indicated by Patches. + +"Here's the tracks, all right," called one. "An' here," added another, +from a few feet further away, "was where he left his horse." + +"An' now," continued the Dean, when the three men had come back from +behind the bushes, and with Patches had remounted their horses, "I'll +tell you somethin' else. I had a talk with Phil himself, an' the boy's +story agrees with what Patches has just told you in every point. An', +furthermore, Phil told me straight when I asked him that he didn't know +himself who fired that shot." + +He paused for a moment for them to grasp the full import of his words. +Then he summed up the case. + +"As the thing stands, we've got no evidence against anybody. It can't be +proved that the calf wasn't Nick's property in the first place. It can't +be proved that Nick was anywhere in the neighborhood. It can't be proved +who fired that shot. It could have been Yavapai Joe, or anybody else, +just as well as Nick. Phil himself, by bein' too quick to jump at +conclusions, blocked this man's game, just when he was playin' the only +hand that could have won out against Nick. If Phil hadn't 'a' happened +on to Patches and Joe when he did, or if he had been a little slower +about findin' a man guilty just because appearances were against him, +we'd 'a' had the evidence from Yavapai Joe that we've been wantin', an' +could 'a' called the turn on that Tailholt outfit proper. As it stands +now, we're right where we was before. Now, what are you all goin' to do +about it?" + +The men grinned shamefacedly, but were glad that the tragedy had been +averted. They were by no means convinced that Patches was not guilty, +but they were quick to see the possibilities of a mistake in the +situation. + +"I reckon the Dean has adjourned the meetin', boys," said one. + +"Come on," called another. "Let's be ridin'." + +When the last man had disappeared in the timber, the Dean wiped the +perspiration from his flushed face, and looked at Patches thoughtfully. +Then that twinkle of approval came into the blue eyes, that a few +moments before had been so cold and uncompromising. + +"Come, son," he said gently, "let's go to breakfast. Stella'll be +wonderin' what's keepin' us." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE SKY LINE. + + +Before their late breakfast was over at the Cross-Triangle Ranch, Helen +Manning came across the valley meadows to help with the work of the +household. Jimmy brought her, but when she saw that she was really +needed, and that Mrs. Baldwin would be glad of her help, she told Jimmy +that she would stay for the day. Someone from the Cross-Triangle, the +Dean said, would take her home when she was ready to go. + +The afternoon was nearly gone when Curly returned from the lower end of +the valley with a woman who would relieve Mrs. Baldwin of the housework, +and, as her presence was no longer needed, Helen told the Dean that she +would return to the Reid home. + +"I'll just tell Patches to take you over in the buckboard," said the +Dean. "It was mighty kind of you to give us a hand to-day; it's been a +big help to Stella and Kitty." + +"Please don't bother about the buckboard, Mr. Baldwin. I would enjoy the +walk so much. But I would be glad if Mr. Patches could go with me--I +would really feel safer, you know," she smiled. + +Mrs. Baldwin was sleeping and Kitty was watching beside Phil, so the +Dean himself went as far as the wash with Helen and Patches, as the two +set out for their walk across the meadows. When Helen had said good-by +to the Dean, with a promise to come again on the morrow, and he had +turned back toward the house, she said to her companion, "Oh, Larry, I +am so glad for this opportunity; I wanted to see you alone, and I +couldn't think how it was to be managed. I have something to tell you, +Larry, something that I _must_ tell you, and you must promise to be very +patient with me." + +"You know what happened this morning, do you?" he asked gravely, for he +thought from her words that she had, perhaps, chanced to hear of some +further action to be taken by the suspicious cattlemen. + +"It was terrible--terrible, Larry. Why didn't you tell them who you are? +Why did you let them--" she could not finish. + +He laughed shortly. "It would have been such a sinful waste of words. +Can't you imagine me trying to make those men believe such a fairy +story--under such circumstances?" + +For a little they walked in silence; then he asked, "Is it about Jim +Reid's suspicion that you wanted to see me, Helen?" + +"No, Larry, it isn't. It's about Kitty," she answered. + +"Oh!" + +"Kitty told me all about it, to-day," Helen continued. "The poor child +is almost beside herself." + +The man did not speak. Helen looked up at him almost as a mother might +have done. + +"Do you love her so very much, Larry? Tell me truly, do you?" + +Patches could not--dared not--look at her. + +"Tell me, Larry," she insisted gently. "I must know. Do you love Kitty +as a man ought to love his wife?" + +The man answered in a voice that was low and shaking with emotion. "Why +should you ask me such a question? You know the answer. What right have +you to force me to tell you that which you already know--that I love +you--another man's wife?" + +Helen's face went white. In her anxiety for Kitty she, had not foreseen +this situation in which, by her question, she had placed herself. + +"Larry!" she said sharply. + +"Well," he retorted passionately, "you insisted that I tell you the +truth." + +"I insisted that you tell me the truth about Kitty," she returned. + +"Well, you have it," he answered quickly. + +"Oh, Larry," she cried, "how could you--how could you ask a woman you do +not love to be your wife? How could you do it, Larry? And just when I +was so proud of you; so glad for you that you had found yourself; that +you were such a splendid man!" + +"Kitty and I are the best of friends," he answered in a dull, spiritless +tone, "the best of companions. In the past year I have grown very fond +of her--we have much in common. I can give her the life she desires--the +life she is fitted for. I will make her happy; I will be true to her; I +will be to her everything that a man should be to his wife." + +"No, Larry," she said gently, touched by the hopelessness in his voice, +for he had spoken as though he already knew that his attempt to justify +his engagement to Kitty was vain. "No, Larry, you cannot be to Kitty +everything that a man should be to his wife. You cannot, without love, +be a husband to her." + +Again they walked in silence for a little way. Then Helen asked: "And +are you sure, Larry, that Kitty cares for you--as a woman ought to care, +I mean?" + +"I could not have asked her to be my wife if I had not thought so," he +answered, with more spirit. + +"Of course," returned his companion gently, "and Kitty could not have +answered, 'yes,' if she had not believed that you loved her." + +"Do you mean that you think Kitty does not care for me, Helen?" + +"I _know_ that she loves Phil Acton, Larry. I saw it in her face when we +first learned that he was hurt. And to-day the poor girl confessed it. +She loved him all the time, Larry--has loved him ever since they were +boy and girl together. She has tried to deny her heart--she has tried to +put other things above her love, but she knows now that she cannot. It +is fortunate for you both that she realized her love for Mr. Acton +before she had spoiled not only her own life but yours as well." + +"But, how could she promise to be my wife when she loved Phil?" he +demanded. + +"But, how could you ask her when you--" Helen retorted quickly, without +thinking of herself. Then she continued bravely, putting herself aside +in her effort to make him understand. "You tempted her, Larry. You did +not mean it so, perhaps, but you did. You tempted her with your +wealth--with all that you could give her of material luxuries and ease +and refinement. You tempted her to substitute those things for love. I +know, Larry--I know, because you see, dear man, I was once tempted, +too." + +He made a gesture of protest, but she went on, "You did not know, but I +can tell you now that nothing but the memory of my dear father's +teaching saved me from a terrible mistake. You are a man now, Larry. You +are more to me than any man in the world, save one; and more than any +man in the world, save that one, I respect and admire you for the +manhood you have gained. But oh, Larry, Larry, don't you see? _'When a +man's a man'_ there is one thing above all others that he cannot do. He +cannot take advantage of a woman's weakness; he cannot tempt her beyond +her strength; he must be strong both for himself and her; he must save +her always from herself." + +The man lifted his head and looked away toward Granite Mountain. As once +before this woman had aroused him to assert his manhood's strength, she +called now to all that was finest and truest in the depth of his being. + +"You are always right, Helen," he said, almost reverently. + +"No, Larry," she answered quickly, "but you know that I am right in +this." + +"I will free Kitty from her promise at once," he said, as though to end +the matter. + +Helen answered quickly. "But that is exactly what you must not do." + +The man was bewildered. "Why, I thought--what in the world do you mean?" + +She laughed happily as she said, "Stupid Larry, don't you understand? +You must make Kitty send you about your business. You must save her +self-respect. Can't you see how ashamed and humiliated she would be if +she imagined for a moment that you did not love her? Think what she +would suffer if she knew that you had merely tried to buy her with your +wealth and the things you possess!" + +She disregarded his protest. + +"That's exactly what your proposal meant, Larry. A girl like Kitty, if +she knew the truth of what she had done, might even fancy herself +unworthy to accept her happiness now that it has come. You must make her +dismiss you, and all that you could give her. You must make her proud +and happy to give herself to the man she loves." + +"But--what can I do?" he asked in desperation. + +"I don't know, Larry. But you must manage somehow--for Kitty's sake you +_must_." + +"If only the Dean had not interrupted the proceedings this morning, how +it would have simplified everything!" he mused, and she saw that as +always he was laughing at himself. + +"Don't, Larry; please don't," she cried earnestly. + +He looked at her curiously. "Would you have me lie to her, +Helen--deliberately lie?" + +She answered quietly. "I don't think that I would raise that question, +if I were you, Larry--considering all the circumstances." + +On his way back to the Cross-Triangle, Patches walked as a man who, +having determined upon a difficult and distasteful task, is of a mind to +undertake it without delay. + +After supper that evening he managed to speak to Kitty when no one was +near. + +"I must see you alone for a few minutes to-night," he whispered +hurriedly. "As soon as possible. I will be under the trees near the bank +of the wash. Come to me as soon as it is dark, and you can slip away." + +The young woman wondered at his manner. He was so hurried, and appeared +so nervous and unlike himself. + +"But, Patches, I--" + +"You must!" he interrupted with a quick look toward the Dean, who was +approaching them. "I have something to tell you--something that I must +tell you to-night." + +He turned to speak to the Dean, and Kitty presently left them. An hour +later, when the night had come, she found him waiting as he had said. + +"Listen, Kitty!" he began abruptly, and she thought from his manner and +the tone of his voice that he was in a state of nervous fear. "I must +go; I dare not stay here another day; I am going to-night." + +"Why, Patches," she said, forcing herself to speak quietly in order to +calm him. "What is the matter?" + +"Matter?" he returned hurriedly. "You know what they tried to do to me +this morning." + +Kitty was shocked. It was true that she did not--could not--care for +this man as she loved Phil, but she had thought him her dearest friend, +and she respected and admired him. It was not good to find him now like +this--shaken and afraid. She could not understand. For the moment her +own trouble was put aside by her honest concern for him. + +"But, Patches," she said earnestly, "that is all past now; it cannot +happen again." + +"You do not know," he returned, "or you would not feel so sure. Phil +might--" He checked himself as if he feared to finish the sentence. + +Kitty thought now that there must be more cause for his manner than she +had guessed. + +"But you are not a cattle thief," she protested. "You have only to +explain who you are; no one would for a moment believe that Lawrence +Knight could be guilty of stealing; it's ridiculous on the face of it!" + +"You do not understand," he returned desperately. "There is more in this +than stealing." + +Kitty started. "You don't mean, Patches--you can't mean--Phil--" she +gasped. + +"Yes, I mean Phil," he whispered. "I--we were quarreling--I was angry. +My God! girl, don't you see why I must go? I dare not stay. Listen, +Kitty! It will be all right. Once I am out of this country and living +under my own name I will be safe. Later you can come to me. You will +come, won't you, dear? You know how I want you; this need make no change +in our plans. If you love me you--" + +She stopped him with a low cry. "And you--it was you who did that?" + +"But I tell you we were quarreling, Kitty," he protested weakly. + +"And you think that I could go to you now?" She was trembling with +indignation. "Oh, you are so mistaken. It seems that I was mistaken, +too. I never dreamed that you--nothing--nothing, that you could ever do +would make me forget what you have told me. You are right to go." + +"You mean that you will not come to me?" he faltered. + +"Could you really think that I would?" she retorted. + +"But, Kitty, you will let me go? You will not betray me? You will give +me a chance?" + +"It is the only thing that I can do," she answered coldly. "I should die +of shame, if it were ever known that I had thought of being more to you +than I have been; but you must go to-night." + +And with this she left him, fairly running toward the house. + +Alone in the darkness, Honorable Patches smiled mockingly to himself. + +When morning came there was great excitement at the Cross-Triangle +Ranch. Patches was missing. And more, the best horse in the Dean's +outfit--the big bay with the blazed face, had also disappeared. + +Quickly the news spread throughout the valley, and to the distant +ranches. And many were the wise heads that nodded understandingly; and +many were the "I told you so's." The man who had appeared among them so +mysteriously, and who, for a year, had been a never-failing topic of +conversation, had finally established his character beyond all question. +But the cattlemen felt with reason, because of the Dean's vigorous +defense of the man when they would have administered justice, that the +matter was now in his hands. They offered their services, and much +advice; they quietly joked about the price of horses; but the Dean +laughed at their jokes, listened to their advice, and said that he +thought the sheriff of Yavapai County could be trusted to handle the +case. + +To Helen only Kitty told of her last interview with Patches. And Helen, +shocked and surprised at the thoroughness with which the man had brought +about Kitty's freedom and peace of mind, bade the girl forget and be +happy. + +When the crisis was passed, and Phil was out of danger, Kitty returned +to her home, but every day she and Helen drove across the meadows to see +how the patient was progressing. Then one day Helen said good-by to her +Williamson Valley friends, and went with Stanford to the home he had +prepared for her. And after that Kitty spent still more of her time at +the house across the wash from the old Acton homestead. + +It was during those weeks of Phil's recovery, while he was slowly +regaining his full measure of health and strength, that Kitty learned to +know the cowboy in a way that she had never permitted herself to know +him before. Little by little, as they sat together under the walnut +trees, or walked slowly about the place, the young woman came to +understand the mind of the man. As Phil shyly at first, then more +freely, opened the doors of his inner self and talked to her as he had +talked to Patches of the books he had read; of his observations and +thoughts of nature, and of the great world movements and activities that +by magazines and books and papers were brought to his hand, she learned +to her surprise that even as he lived amid the scenes that called for +the highest type of physical strength and courage, he lived an +intellectual life that was as marked for its strength and manly vigor. + +But while they came thus daily into more intimate and closer +companionship they spoke to no one of their love. Kitty, knowing how her +father would look upon her engagement to the cowboy, put off the +announcement from time to time, not wishing their happy companionship to +be marred during those days of Phil's recovery. + +When he was strong enough to ride again, Kitty would come with Midnight, +and together they would roam about the ranch and the country near by. So +it happened that Sunday afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Reid, with the three +boys, were making a neighborly call on the Baldwins, and Phil and Kitty +were riding in the vicinity of the spot where Kitty had first met +Patches. + +They were seated in the shade of a cedar on the ridge not far from the +drift fence gate, when Phil saw three horsemen approaching from the +further side of the fence. By the time the horsemen had reached the +gate, Phil knew them to be Yavapai Joe, Nick Cambert and Honorable +Patches. Kitty, too, had, by this time, recognized the riders, and with +an exclamation started to rise to her feet. + +But Phil said quietly, "Wait, Kitty; there's something about that outfit +that looks mighty queer to me." + +The men were riding in single file, with Yavapai Joe in the lead and +Patches last, and their positions were not changed when they halted +while Joe, without dismounting, unlatched the gate. They came through +the opening, still in the same order, and as they halted again, while +Patches closed the gate, Phil saw what it was that caused them to move +with such apparent lack of freedom in their relative positions, and why +Nick Cambert's attitude in the saddle was so stiff and unnatural. Nick's +hands were secured behind his back, and his feet were tied under the +horse from stirrup to stirrup, while his horse was controlled by a lead +rope, one end of which was made fast to Yavapai Joe's saddle horn. + +Patches caught sight of the two under the tree as he came through the +gate, but he gave no sign that he had noticed them. As the little +procession moved slowly nearer, Phil and Kitty looked at each other +without a word, but as they turned again to watch the approaching +horsemen, Kitty impulsively grasped Phil's arm. And sitting so, in such +unconscious intimacy, they must have made a pleasing picture; at least +the man who rode behind Nick Cambert seemed to think so, for he was +trying to smile. + +When the riders were almost within speaking distance of the pair under +the tree, they stopped; and the watchers saw Joe turn his face toward +Patches for a moment, then look in their direction. Nick Cambert did not +raise his head. Patches came on toward them alone. + +As they saw that it was the man's purpose to speak to them, Phil and +Kitty rose and stood waiting, Kitty with her hand still on her +companion's arm. And now, as they were given a closer and less +obstructed view of the man who had been their friend, Kitty and Phil +again exchanged wondering glances. This was not the Honorable Patches +whom they had known so intimately. The man's clothing was soiled with +dirt, and old from rough usage, with here and there a ragged tear. His +tall form drooped with weariness, and his unshaven face, dark and deeply +tanned, and grimed with sweat and dirt, was thin and drawn and old, and +his tired eyes, deep set in their dark hollows, were bloodshot as though +from sleepless nights. His dry lips parted in a painful smile, as he +dismounted stiffly and limped courteously forward to greet them. + +"I know that I am scarcely presentable," he said in a voice that was as +worn and old as his face, "but I could not resist the temptation to say +'Howdy'. Perhaps I should introduce myself though," he added, as if to +save them from embarrassment. "My name is Lawrence Knight; I am a deputy +sheriff of this county." A slight movement as he spoke threw back his +unbuttoned jumper, and they saw the badge of his office. "In my official +capacity I am taking a prisoner to Prescott." + +Phil recovered first, and caught the officer's hand in a grip that told +more than words. + +Kitty nearly betrayed her secret when she gasped, "But you--you said +that you--" + +With his ready skill he saved her, "That my name was Patches? I know it +was wrong to deceive you as I did, and I regret that it was necessary +for me to lie so deliberately, but the situation seemed to demand it. +And I hoped that when you understood you would forgive the part I was +forced to play for the good of everyone interested." + +Kitty understood the meaning in his words that was unknown to Phil, and +her eyes expressed the gratitude that she could not speak. + +"By the way," Patches continued, "I am not mistaken in offering my +congratulations and best wishes, am I?" + +They laughed happily. + +"We have made no announcement yet," Phil answered, "but you seem to know +everything." + +"I feel like saying from the bottom of my heart 'God bless you, my +children.' You make me feel strangely old," he returned, with a touch of +his old wistfulness. Then he added in his droll way, "Perhaps, though, +it's from living in the open and sleeping in my clothes so long. Talk +about horses, I'd give my kingdom for a bath, a shave and a clean shirt. +I had begun to think that our old friend Nick never would brand another +calf; that he had reformed, just to get even with me, you know. By the +way, Phil, you will be interested to know that Nick is the man who is +really responsible for your happiness." + +"How?" demanded Phil. + +"Why, it was Nick who fired the shot that brought Kitty to her senses. +My partner there, Yavapai Joe, saw him do it. If you people would like +to thank my prisoner, I will permit it." + +When they had decided that they would deny themselves that pleasure, +Patches said, "I don't blame you; he's a surly, ill-tempered beast, +anyway. Which reminds me that I must be about my official business, and +land him in Prescott to-night. I am going to stop at the ranch and ask +the Dean for the team and buckboard, though," he added, as he climbed +painfully into the saddle. "Adios! my children. Don't stay out too +late." + +Hand in hand they watched him rejoin his companions and ride away behind +the two Tailholt Mountain men. + +The Dean and Mrs. Baldwin, with their friends from the neighboring +ranch, were enjoying their Sunday afternoon together as old friends +will, when the three Reid boys and Little Billy came running from the +corral where they had been holding an amateur bronco riding contest with +a calf for the wild and wicked outlaw. As they ran toward the group +under the walnut trees, the lads disturbed the peaceful conversation of +their elders with wild shouts of "Patches has come back! Patches has +come back! Nick Cambert is with him--so's Yavapai Joe!" + +Jim Reid sprang to his feet. But the Dean calmly kept his seat, and +glancing up at his big friend with twinkling eyes, said to the boys, +with pretended gruffness, "Aw, what's the matter with you kids? Don't +you know that horse thief Patches wouldn't dare show himself in +Williamson Valley again? You're havin' bad dreams--that's what's the +matter with you. Or else you're tryin' to scare us." + +"Honest, it's Patches, Uncle Will," cried Littly Billy. + +"We seen him comin' from over beyond the corral," said Jimmy. + +"I saw him first," shouted Conny. "I was up in the grand stand--I mean +on the fence." + +"Me, too," chirped Jack. + +Jim Reid stood looking toward the corral. "The boys are right, Will," he +said in a low tone. "There they come now." + +As the three horsemen rode into the yard, and the watchers noted the +peculiarity of their companionship, Jim Reid muttered something under +his breath. But the Dean, as he rose leisurely to his feet, was smiling +broadly. + +The little procession halted when the horses evidenced their dislike of +the automobile, and Patches came stiffly forward on foot. Lifting his +battered hat courteously to the company, he said to the Dean, "I have +returned your horse, sir. I'm very much obliged to you. I think you will +find him in fairly good condition." + +Jim Reid repeated whatever it was that he had muttered to himself. + +The Dean chuckled. "Jim," he said to the big cattleman, "I want to +introduce my friend, Mr. Lawrence Knight, one of Sheriff Gordon's +deputies. It looks like he had been busy over in the Tailholt Mountain +neighborhood." + +The two men shook hands silently. Mrs. Reid greeted the officer +cordially, while Mrs. Baldwin, to the Dean's great delight, demonstrated +her welcome in the good old-fashioned mother way. + +"Will Baldwin, I could shake you," she cried, as Patches stood, a little +confused by her impulsive greeting. "Here you knew all the time; and you +kept pesterin' me by trying to make me believe that you thought he had +run away because he was a thief!" + +It was, perhaps, the proudest moment of the Dean's life when he admitted +that Patches had confided in him that morning when they were so late to +breakfast. And how he had understood that the man's disappearance and +the pretense of stealing a horse had been only a blind. The good Dean +never dreamed that there was so much more in Honorable Patches' strategy +than he knew! + +"Mr. Baldwin," said Patches presently, "could you let me have the team +and buckboard? I want to get my prisoners to Prescott to-night, and"--he +laughed shortly--"well, I certainly would appreciate those cushions." + +"Sure, son, you can have the whole Cross-Triangle outfit, if you want +it," answered the Dean. "But hold on a minute." He turned with twinkling +eyes to his neighbor. "Here's Jim with a perfectly good automobile that +don't seem to be busy." + +The big man responded cordially. "Why, of course; I'll be glad to take +you in." + +"Thank you," returned Patches. "I'll be ready in a minute." + +"But you're goin' to have something to eat first," cried Mrs. Baldwin. +"I'll bet you're half starved; you sure look it." + +Patches shook his head. "Don't tempt me, mother; I can't stop now." + +"But you'll come back home to-night, won't you?" she asked anxiously. + +"I would like to," he said. "And may I bring a friend?" + +"Your friends are our friends, son," she answered. + +"Of course he's comin' back," said the Dean. "Where else would he go, +I'd like to know?" + +They watched him as he went to his prisoner, and as, unlocking the +handcuff that held Nick's right wrist, he re-locked it on his own left +arm, thus linking his prisoner securely to himself. Then he spoke to +Joe, and the young man, dismounting, unfastened the rope that bound +Nick's feet. When Nick was on the ground the three came toward the +machine. + +"I am afraid I must ask you to let someone take care of the horses," +called Patches to the Dean. + +"I'll look after them," the Dean returned. "Don't forget now that you're +comin' back to-night; Jim will bring you." + +Jim Reid, as the three men reached the automobile, said to Patches, +"Will you take both of your prisoners in the back seat with you, or +shall I take one of them in front with me?" + +Patches looked the big man straight in the eyes, and they heard him +answer with significant emphasis, as he placed his free hand on Yavapai +Joe's shoulder, "I have only one prisoner, Mr. Reid. This man is my +friend. He will take whatever seat he prefers." + +Yavapai Joe climbed into the rear seat with the officer and his +prisoner. + +It was after dark when Mr. Reid returned to the ranch with Patches and +Joe. + +"You will find your room all ready, son," said Mrs. Baldwin, "and +there's plenty of hot water in the bathroom tank for you both. Joe can +take the extra bed in Curly's room. You show him. I'll have your supper +as soon as you are ready." + +Patches almost fell asleep at the table. As soon as they had finished he +went to his bed, where he remained, as Phil reported at intervals during +the next forenoon, "dead to the world," until dinner time. In the +afternoon they gathered under the walnut trees--the Cross-Triangle +household and the friends from the neighboring ranch--and Patches told +them his story; how, when he had left the ranch that night, he had +ridden straight to his old friend Stanford Manning; and how Stanford had +gone with him to the sheriff, where, through Manning's influence, +together with the letter which Patches had brought from the Dean, he had +been made an officer of the law. As he told them briefly of his days and +nights alone, they needed no minute details to understand what it had +meant to him. + +"It wasn't the work of catching Nick in a way to ensure his conviction +that I minded," he said, "but the trouble was, that while I was watching +Nick day and night, and dodging him all the time, I was afraid some +enthusiastic cow-puncher would run on to me and treat himself to a shot +just for luck. Not that I would have minded that so much, either, after +the first week," he added in his droll way, "but considering all the +circumstances it would have been rather a poor sort of finish." + +"And what about Yavapai Joe?" asked Phil. + +Patches smiled. "Where is Joe? What's he been doing all day?" + +The Dean answered. "He's just been moseyin' around. I tried to get him +to talk, but all he would say was that he'd rather let Mr. Knight tell +it." + +"Billy," said Patches, "will you find Yavapai Joe, and tell him that I +would like to see him here?" + +When Little Billy, with the assistance of Jimmy and Conny and Jack, had +gone proudly on his mission, Patches said to the others, "Technically, +of course, Joe is my prisoner until after the trial, but please don't +let him feel it. He will be the principal witness for the state." + +When Yavapai Joe appeared, embarrassed and ashamed in their presence, +Patches said, as courteously as he would have introduced an equal, "Joe, +I want my friends to know your real name. There is no better place in +the world than right here to start that job of man-making that we have +talked about. You remember that I told you how I started here." + +Yavapai Joe lifted his head and stood straighter by his tall friend's +side, and there was a new note in his voice as he answered, "Whatever +you say goes, Mr. Knight." + +Patches smiled. "Friends, this is Mr. Joseph Parkhill, the only son of +the distinguished Professor Parkhill, whom you all know so well." + +If Patches had planned to enjoy the surprise his words caused, he could +not have been disappointed. + +Presently, when Joe had slipped away again, Patches told them how, +because of his interest in the young man, and because of the lad's +strange knowledge of Professor Parkhill, he had written east for the +distinguished scholar's history. + +"The professor himself was not really so much to blame," said Patches. +"It seems that he was born to an intellectual life. The poor fellow +never had a chance. Even as a child he was exhibited as a prodigy--a +shining example of the possibilities of the race, you know. His father, +who was also a professor of some sort, died when he was a baby. His +mother, unfortunately, possessed an income sufficient to make it +unnecessary that Everard Charles should ever do a day's real work. At +the age of twenty, he was graduated from college; at the age of +twenty-one he was married to--or perhaps it would be more accurate to +say--he was married _by_--his landlady's daughter. Quite likely the +woman was ambitious to break into that higher life to which the +professor aspired, and caught her cultured opportunity in an unguarded +moment. The details are not clear. But when their only child, Joe, was +six years old, the mother ran away with a carpenter who had been at work +on the house for some six weeks. A maiden aunt of some fifty years, who +was a worshiper of the professor's cult, came to keep his house and to +train Joe in the way that good boys should go. + +"But the lad proved rather too great a burden, and when he was thirteen +they sent him to a school out here in the West, ostensibly for the +benefit of the climate. The boy, it was said, being of abnormal +mentality, needed to pursue his studies under the most favorable +physical conditions. The professor, unhampered by his offspring, +continued to climb his aesthetic ladder to intellectual and cultured +glory. The boy in due time escaped from the school, and was educated by +the man Dryden and Nick Cambert." + +"And what will become of him now?" asked the Dean. + +Patches smiled. "Why, the lad is twenty-one now, and we have agreed that +it is about time that he began to make a man of himself--I can help him +a little, perhaps--I have been trying occasionally the past year. But +you see the conditions have not been altogether favorable to the +experiment. It should be easy from now on." + +During the time that intervened before the trial of the Tailholt +Mountain man, Phil and Patches re-established that intimate friendship +of those first months of their work together. Then came the evening when +Phil went across the meadow to ask Jim Reid for his daughter. + +The big cattleman looked at his young neighbor with frowning +disapproval. + +"It won't do, Phil," he said at last. "I'm Kitty's father, and it's up +to me to look out for her interests. You know how I've educated her for +something better than this life. She may think now that she is willin' +to throw it all away, but I know better. The time would come when she +would be miserable. It's got to be somethin' more than a common +cow-puncher for Kitty, Phil, and that's the truth." + +The cowboy did not argue. "Do I understand that your only objection is +based upon the business in which I am engaged?" he asked coolly. + +Jim laughed. "The _business_ in which you are engaged? Why, boy, you +sound like a first national bank. If you had any business of your +own--if you was the owner of an outfit, an' could give Kitty +the--well--the things her education has taught her to need, it would be +different. I know you're a fine man, all right, but you're only a poor +cow-puncher just the same. I'm speakin' for your own good, Phil, as well +as for Kitty's," he added, with an effort at kindliness. + +"Then, if I had a good business, it would be different?" + +"Yes, son, it would sure make all the difference in the world." + +"Thank you," said the cowboy quietly, as he handed Mr. Reid a very legal +looking envelope. "I happen to be half owner of this ranch and outfit. +With my own property, it makes a fairly good start for a man of my age. +My partner, Mr. Lawrence Knight, leaves the active management wholly in +my hands; and he has abundant capital to increase our holdings and +enlarge our operations just as fast as we can handle the business." + +The big man looked from the papers to the lad, then back to the papers. +Then a broad smile lighted his heavy face, as he said, "I give it +up--you win. You young fellers are too swift for me. I've been wantin' +to retire anyway." He raised his voice and called, "Kitty--oh, Kitty!" + +The girl appeared in the doorway. + +"Come and get him," said Reid. "I guess he's yours." + +Helen Manning was sitting on the front porch of that little cottage on +the mountain side where she and Stanford began their years of +home-building. A half mile below she could see the mining buildings that +were grouped about the shaft in picturesque disorder. Above, the +tree-clad ridge rose against the sky. It was too far from the great +world of cities, some would have said, but Helen did not find it so. +With her books and her music, and the great out-of-doors; and with the +companionship of her mate and the dreams they dreamed together, her +woman heart was never lonely. + +She lowered the book she was reading, and looked through the open window +to the clock in the living-room. A little while, and she would go down +the hill to Stanford, for they loved to walk home together. Then, before +lifting the printed page again, she looked over the wide view of rugged +mountain sides and towering peaks that every day held for her some new +beauty. She had resumed her reading when the sound of horses' feet +attracted her attention. + +Patches and Yavapai Joe were riding up the hill. + +They stopped at the gate, and while Joe held Stranger's bridle rein, +Patches came to Helen as she stood on the porch waiting to receive him. + +"Surely you will stay for the night," she urged when they had exchanged +greetings, and had talked for a little while. + +"No," he answered quietly. "I just came this way to say good-by; I +stopped for a few minutes with Stan at the office. He said I would find +you here." + +"But where are you going?" she asked. + +Smiling he waved his hand toward the mountain ridge above. "Just over +the sky line, Helen." + +"But, Larry, you will come again? You won't let us lose you altogether?" + +"Perhaps--some day," he said. + +"And who is that with you?" + +"Just a friend who cares to go with me. Stan will tell you." + +"Oh, Larry, Larry! What a man you are!" she cried proudly, as he stood +before her holding out his hand. + +"If you think so, Helen, I am glad," he answered, and turned away. + +So she watched him go. Sitting there at home, she watched him ride up +the winding road. Now he was in full view on some rocky shoulder of the +mountain--now some turn carried him behind a rocky point--again she +glimpsed him through the trees--again he was lost to her in the shadows. +At last, for a moment, he stood out boldly against the wide-arched +sky--and then he had passed from sight--over the sky line, as he had +said. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's When A Man's A Man, by Harold Bell Wright + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14367 *** |