Not infrequently there were accidents—­from falling horses—­from angry bulls—­from ill-tempered steers, or excited cows—­or, perhaps, from a carelessly handled rope in some critical moment.  Horses were killed; men with broken limbs, or with bodies bruised and crushed, were forced to drop out; and many a strong horseman who rode forth in the morning to the day’s work, laughing and jesting with his mates, had been borne by his grave and silent comrades to some quiet resting place, to await, in long and dreamless sleep, the morning of that last great rodeo which, we are told, shall gather us all.

Day after day, as Patches rode with these hardy men, Phil watched him finding himself and winning his place among the cowboys.  They did not fail, as they said, to “try him out.”  Nor did Phil, in these trials, attempt in any way to assist his pupil.  But the men learned very quickly, as Curly had learned at the time of Patches’ introduction, that, while the new man was always ready to laugh with them when a joke was turned against himself, there was a line beyond which it was not well to go.  In the work he was, of course, assigned only to such parts as did not require the skill and knowledge of long training and experience.  But he did all that was given him to do with such readiness and skill, thanks to Phil’s teaching, that the men wondered.  And this, together with his evident ability in the art of defending himself, and the story of his strange coming to the Cross-Triangle, caused not a little talk, with many and varied opinions as to who he was, and what it was that had brought him among them.  Strangely enough, very few believed that Patches’ purpose in working as a cowboy for the Dean was simply to earn an honest livelihood.  They felt instinctively—­as, in fact, did Phil and the Dean—­that there was something more beneath it all than such a commonplace.

Nick Cambert, who, with Yavapai Joe, rode in the rodeo, carefully avoided the stranger.  But Patches, by his persistent friendly interest in the Tailholt Mountain man’s follower, added greatly to the warmth of the discussions and conjectures regarding himself.  The rodeo had reached the Pot-Hook-S Ranch, with Jim Reid in charge, when the incident occurred which still further stimulated the various opinions and suggestions as to the new man’s real character and mission.

They were working the cattle that day on the rodeo ground just outside the home ranch corral.  Phil and Curly were cutting out some Cross-Triangle steers, when the riders, who were holding the cattle, saw them separate a nine-months-old calf from the herd, and start it, not toward the cattle they had already cut out, but toward the corral.

Instantly everybody knew what had happened.

The cowboy nearest the gate did not need Phil’s word to open it for his neighbor next in line to drive the calf inside.

Not a word was said until the calves to be branded were also driven into the corral.  Then Phil, after a moment’s talk with Jim Reid, rode up to Nick Cambert, who was sitting on his horse a little apart from the group of intensely interested cowboys.  The Cross-Triangle foreman’s tone was curt.  “I reckon I’ll have to trouble you to vent your brand on that Cross-Triangle calf, Nick.”