Phil, embarrassed at the laughter which followed, said, with tactful seriousness, to his little champion, “That’s right, kid.  You stand up for your pardner every time, don’t you?  You’ll be riding them yourself before long.  There’s a little sorrel in that bunch that I’ve picked out to gentle for you.”  He glanced at his employer meaningly, and the Dean’s face glowed with appreciation of the young man’s thoughtfulness.  “That old horse, Sheep, of yours,” continued Phil to Little Billy, “is getting too old and stiff for your work.  I’ve noticed him stumbling a lot lately.”  Again he glanced inquiringly at the Dean, who answered the look with a slight nod of approval.

“You’d better make him gentle your horse first, Billy,” teased Curly.  “He might not be in the business when that big one gets through with him.”

Little Billy’s retort came in a flash.  “Huh, ‘Wild Horse Phil’ will be a-ridin’ ’em long after you’ve got your’n, Curly Elson.”

“Look out, son,” cautioned the Dean, when the laugh had gone round again.  “Curly will be slippin’ a burr under your saddle, if you don’t.”  Then to the men:  “What horse is it that you boys think is goin’ to be such a bad one?  That big bay with the blazed face?”

The cowboys nodded.

“He’s bad, all right,” said Phil.

“Well,” commented the Dean, leaning back in his chair and speaking generally, “he’s sure got a license to be bad.  His mother was the wickedest piece of horse flesh I ever knew.  Remember her, Stella?”

“Indeed I do,” returned Mrs. Baldwin.  “She nearly ruined that Windy Jim who came from nobody knew where, and bragged that he could ride anything.”

The Dean chuckled reminiscently.  “She sure sent Windy back where he came from.  But I tell you, boys, that kind of a horse makes the best in the world once you get ’em broke right.  Horses are just like men, anyhow.  If they ain’t got enough in ’em to fight when they’re bein’ broke, they ain’t generally worth breakin’.”

“The man that rides that bay will sure be a-horseback,” said Curly.

“He’s a man’s horse, all right,” agreed Bob.

Breakfast over, the men left the house, not too quietly, and laughing, jesting and romping like school boys, went out to the corrals, with Little Billy tagging eagerly at their heels.  The Dean and Phil remained for a few minutes at the table.

“You really oughtn’t to say such things to those boys, Will,” reproved Mrs. Baldwin, as she watched them from the window.  “It encourages them to be wild, and land knows they don’t need any encouragement.”

“Shucks,” returned the Dean, with that gentle note that was always in his voice when he spoke to her.  “If such talk as that can hurt ’em, there ain’t nothin’ that could save ’em.  You’re always afraid somebody’s goin’ to go bad.  Look at me and Phil here,” he added, as they in turn pushed their chairs back from the table; “you’ve fussed enough over us to spoil a dozen men, and ain’t we been a credit to you all the time?”