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.