In spite of himself Phil Acton was impressed by the truth and fairness of Patches’ words.  He recognized that an unequal contest could satisfy neither of them, and that it made no difference which of the contestants had the advantage.

“Well,” he said sarcastically, “what are you going to do about it?”

“First,” returned Patches calmly, “I am going to tell you how I happened to be here with Yavapai Joe.”

“I don’t need any explanations from you.  It’s some more of your personal business, I suppose,” retorted Phil.

Patches controlled himself.  “You are going to hear the explanation, just the same,” he returned.  “You can believe it or not, just as you please.”

“And what then?” demanded Phil.

“Then I’m going to get a gun, and we’ll settle the rest of it, man to man, on equal terms, just as soon as you like,” answered Patches deliberately.

Phil replied shortly.  “Go ahead with your palaver.  I’ll have to hand it to you when it comes to talk.  I am not educated that way myself.”

For a moment Patches hesitated, as though on the point of changing his mind about the explanation.  Then his sense of justice—­justice both for Phil and himself—­conquered.

But in telling Phil how he had come upon the scene too late for positive proof that the freshly branded calf was the Dean’s property, and in explaining how, when the foreman arrived, he had just persuaded Joe to go with him and give the necessary evidence against Nick, Patches forgot the possible effect of his words upon Joe himself.  The two Cross-Triangle men were so absorbed in their own affair that they had paid no attention to the Tailholt Mountain outcast.  And Joe, taking advantage of the opportunity, had by this time gained a position beside his horse.  As he heard Patches tell how he had no actual evidence that the calf was not Nick Cambert’s property, a look of anger and cunning darkened the face of Nick’s follower.  He was angry at the way Patches had tricked him into betraying both himself and his evil master, and he saw a way to defeat the two cowboys and at the same time win Nick’s approval.  Quickly the fellow mounted his horse, and, before they could stop him, was out of sight in the timber.

“I’ve done it now,” exclaimed Patches in dismay.  “I forgot all about Joe.”

“I don’t think he counts for much in this game anyway,” returned Phil, gruffly.

As he spoke, the foreman turned his back to Patches and walked toward his gun.  He had reached the spot where the weapon lay on the ground, when, from the bushes to the right, and a little back of Patches, who stood watching his companion, a shot rang out with startling suddenness.

Patches saw Phil stumble forward, straighten for an instant, as though by sheer power of his will, and, turning, look back at him.  Then, as Phil fell, the unarmed cowboy leaped forward toward that gun on the ground.  Even as he moved, a second shot rang out and he felt the wind of the bullet on his cheek.  With Phil’s gun in his hand, he ran toward a cedar tree on the side of the open space opposite the point from which the shots came, and as he ran another bullet whistled past.