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 a.s.sure 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 ga.s.sin' 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 n.o.body," 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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 n.o.body, 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 n.o.body."

"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-G.o.d, now, be you?"

His question was pitiful, and Patches a.s.sured 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 n.o.body 'bout me an'

him back there."

Patches, to demonstrate his friendliness, answered without thought, "Certainly, I'll promise that, Joe."

"You won't tell n.o.body?"

"No, I won't say a word."

The poor fellow's face revealed his grat.i.tude. "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 h.e.l.l 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 rea.s.sured 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 pa.s.sed 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."