The boy dropped from his saddle, and ran on into the house to tell his Aunt Stella that Patches had come, leaving Sheep to be looked after by whoever volunteered for the service.  It was one of Little Billy’s humiliations that he was not yet tall enough to saddle or bridle his own horse, and the men tactfully saw to it that his mount was always ready in the morning, and properly released at night, without any embarrassing comments on the subject.

Patches checked his horse, and without dismounting greeted his friends.  “You’re not going?” he said to Kitty, with a note of protest in his voice.  “I haven’t seen you for a week.  It’s not fair for Phil to take advantage of his position and send me off somewhere alone while he spends his time riding over the country with you.”

They laughed up at him as he sat there on the big bay, hat in hand, looking down into their upturned faces with the intimate, friendly interest of an older brother.

Patches noticed that Kitty’s eyes were bright with excitement, and that Phil’s were twinkling with suppressed merriment.

“I must go, Patches,” said the young woman.  “I ought to have gone two hours ago; but I was so interested that the time slipped away before I realized.”

“We have company,” explained Phil, looking at Patches and deliberately closing one eye—­the one that Kitty could not see.  “A distinguished guest, if you please.  I’ll loan you a clean shirt for supper; that is, if mother lets you eat at the same table with him.”

“Phil, how can you!” protested Kitty.

The two men laughed, but Phil fancied that there was a hint of anxiety in Patches’ face, as the man on the horse said, “Little Billy broke the news to me.  Who is he?”

“A friend of Judge Morris in Prescott,” answered Phil.  “The Judge asked Uncle Will to take him on the ranch for a while.  He and the Judge were—­”

Kitty interrupted with enthusiasm.  “It is Professor Parkhill, Patches, the famous professor of aesthetics, you know:  Everard Charles Parkhill.  And he’s going to spend the summer in Williamson Valley!  Isn’t it wonderful!”

Phil saw a look of relief in his friend’s face as Patches answered Kitty with sympathetic interest.  “It certainly will be a great pleasure, Miss Reid, especially for you, to have one so distinguished for his scholarship in the neighborhood.  Is Professor Parkhill visiting Arizona for his health?”

Something in Patches’ voice caused Phil to turn hastily aside.

But Kitty, who was thinking how perfectly Patches understood her, noticed nothing in his grave tones save his usual courteous deference.

“Partly because of his health,” she answered, “but he is going to prepare a series of lectures, I understand.  He says that in the crude and uncultivated mentalities of our—­”

“Here he is now,” interrupted Phil, as the distinguished guest of the Cross-Triangle appeared, coming slowly toward them.