g her horse and holding out her hand. "We
part here. You can see the Cross-Triangle buildings yonder. I go this
way."

He looked his pleasure, as he clasped her hand in hearty understanding
of the friendship offered.

"Thank you, Miss Reid. I still maintain that the Dean's judgment is
unquestionable."

She was not at all displeased with his reply.

"By the way," she said, as if to prove her friendship. "I suppose you
know what to expect from Uncle Will and the boys when they learn of your
little adventure?"

"I do," he answered, as if resigned to anything.

"And do you enjoy making fun for them?"

"I assure you, Miss Reid, I am very human."

"Well, then, why don't you turn the laugh on them?"

"But how?"

"They are expecting you to get into some sort of a scrape, don't you
think?"

"They are always expecting that. And," he added, with that droll touch
in his voice, "I must say I rarely disappoint them."

"I suspect," she continued, thoughtfully, "that the Dean purposely did
not explain that drift fence to you."

"He has established precedents that would justify my thinking so, I'll
admit."

"Well, then, why don't you ride cheerfully home and report the progress
of your work as though nothing had happened?"

"You mean that you won't tell?" he cried.

She nodded gaily. "I told them this afternoon that it wasn't fair for
you to have no one but Stella on your side."

"What a good Samaritan you are! You put me under an everlasting
obligation to you."

"All right," she laughed. "I'm glad you feel that way about it. I shall
hold that debt against you until some day when I am in dreadful need,
and then I shall demand payment in full. Good-by!"

And once again Kitty had spoken, in jest, words that held for them both,
had they but known, great significance.

Patches watched until she was out of sight. Then he made his way
happily to the house to receive, with a guilty conscience but with a
light heart, congratulations and compliments upon his safe return.

That evening Phil disappeared somewhere, in the twilight. And a little
later Jim Reid rode into the Cross-Triangle dooryard.

The owner of the Pot-Hook-S was a big man, tall and heavy, outspoken and
somewhat gruff, with a manner that to strangers often seemed near to
overbearing. When Patches was introduced, the big cattleman looked him
over suspiciously, spoke a short word in response to Patches'
commonplace, and abruptly turned his back to conver