"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