“Honest, it’s Patches, Uncle Will,” cried Littly Billy.

“We seen him comin’ from over beyond the corral,” said Jimmy.

“I saw him first,” shouted Conny.  “I was up in the grand stand—­I mean on the fence.”

“Me, too,” chirped Jack.

Jim Reid stood looking toward the corral.  “The boys are right, Will,” he said in a low tone.  “There they come now.”

As the three horsemen rode into the yard, and the watchers noted the peculiarity of their companionship, Jim Reid muttered something under his breath.  But the Dean, as he rose leisurely to his feet, was smiling broadly.

The little procession halted when the horses evidenced their dislike of the automobile, and Patches came stiffly forward on foot.  Lifting his battered hat courteously to the company, he said to the Dean, “I have returned your horse, sir.  I’m very much obliged to you.  I think you will find him in fairly good condition.”

Jim Reid repeated whatever it was that he had muttered to himself.

The Dean chuckled.  “Jim,” he said to the big cattleman, “I want to introduce my friend, Mr. Lawrence Knight, one of Sheriff Gordon’s deputies.  It looks like he had been busy over in the Tailholt Mountain neighborhood.”

The two men shook hands silently.  Mrs. Reid greeted the officer cordially, while Mrs. Baldwin, to the Dean’s great delight, demonstrated her welcome in the good old-fashioned mother way.

“Will Baldwin, I could shake you,” she cried, as Patches stood, a little confused by her impulsive greeting.  “Here you knew all the time; and you kept pesterin’ me by trying to make me believe that you thought he had run away because he was a thief!”

It was, perhaps, the proudest moment of the Dean’s life when he admitted that Patches had confided in him that morning when they were so late to breakfast.  And how he had understood that the man’s disappearance and the pretense of stealing a horse had been only a blind.  The good Dean never dreamed that there was so much more in Honorable Patches’ strategy than he knew!

“Mr. Baldwin,” said Patches presently, “could you let me have the team and buckboard?  I want to get my prisoners to Prescott to-night, and”—­he laughed shortly—­“well, I certainly would appreciate those cushions.”

“Sure, son, you can have the whole Cross-Triangle outfit, if you want it,” answered the Dean.  “But hold on a minute.”  He turned with twinkling eyes to his neighbor.  “Here’s Jim with a perfectly good automobile that don’t seem to be busy.”

The big man responded cordially.  “Why, of course; I’ll be glad to take you in.”

“Thank you,” returned Patches.  “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“But you’re goin’ to have something to eat first,” cried Mrs. Baldwin.  “I’ll bet you’re half starved; you sure look it.”

Patches shook his head.  “Don’t tempt me, mother; I can’t stop now.”