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.”