“But I have nothing in Prescott,” said the stranger slowly.

“You haven’t?  Well, you’ll need an outfit anyway,” persisted the cattleman.

“Really, I think I can get along for a while,” Patches returned diffidently.

The Dean considered for a little; then he said with straightforward bluntness, but not at all unkindly, “Look here, young man, you ain’t afraid to go to Prescott, are you?”

The other laughed.  “Not at all, sir.  It’s not that.  I suppose I must tell you now, though.  All the clothes I have are on my back, and I haven’t a cent in the world with which to buy an outfit, as you call it.”

The Dean chuckled.  “So that’s it?  I thought mebby you was dodgin’ the sheriff.  If it’s just plain broke that’s the matter, why you’ll go to town with me in the mornin’, an’ we’ll get what you need.  I’ll hold it out of your wages until it’s paid.”  As though the matter were settled, he turned back toward the house, adding, “Phil will show you where you’re to sleep.”

When the foreman had shown the new man to his room, the cowboy asked casually, “Found the goat ranch, all right, night before last, did you?”

The other hesitated; then he said gravely, “I didn’t look for it, Mr. Acton.”

“You didn’t look for it?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you mean to say that you spent the night up there on the Divide without blankets or anything?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“And where did you stop last night?”

“At Simmons.”

“Walked, I suppose?”

The stranger smiled.  “Yes.”

“But, look here,” said the puzzled cowboy, “I don’t mean to be asking questions about what is none of my business, but I can’t figure it out.  If you were coming out here to get a job on the Cross-Triangle, why didn’t you go to Mr. Baldwin in town?  Anybody could have pointed him out to you.  Or, why didn’t you say something to me, when we were talking back there on the Divide?”

“Why, you see,” explained the other lamely, “I didn’t exactly want to work on the Cross-Triangle, or anywhere.”

“But you told Uncle Will that you wanted to work here, and you were on your way when I met you.”

“Yes, I know, but you see—­oh, hang it all, Mr. Acton, haven’t you ever wanted to do something that you didn’t want to do?  Haven’t you ever been caught in a corner that you were simply forced to get out of when you didn’t like the only way that would get you out?  I don’t mean anything criminal,” he added, with a short laugh.

“Yes, I have,” returned the other seriously, “and if you don’t mind there’s no handle to my name.  Around here I’m just plain Phil, Mr. Patches.”

“Thanks.  Neither does Patches need decorating.”

“And now, one more,” said Phil, with his winning smile.  “Why in the name of all the obstinate fools that roam at large did you walk out here when you must have had plenty of chances to ride?”