“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.”