, to whom he spoke with a touch of
embarrassment. Then he said, with a significant look at Patches, "I'm
glad to meet you people, Mr. Manning, but we really haven't much time
for sociability just now. Mr. Baldwin sent me with an outfit into this
Granite Basin country to gather some of these outlaw steers. He expects
us to be on the job." Turning to Patches, he continued, "When you didn't
come back I thought you must have met with some serious trouble, and so
trailed you. We've managed to lose a good deal of time, altogether. That
steer you were after got away from you, did he?"

Helen spoke quickly. "Oh, Mr. Acton, you must not blame Mr. Patches for
what happened. Really, you must not. No one was to blame; it just
happened--" She stopped, unable to finish the explanation, for she was
thinking of that part of the incident which was known only to herself
and Patches.

Stanford told in a few words of his wife's danger and how the cowboy had
saved her.

"That was mighty good work, Patches," said Phil heartily, "mighty good
work. I'm sorry, Mr. Manning, that our coming up here after these
outlaws happened at just this time. It is too bad to so disturb you and
Mrs. Manning. We are going home Friday, however, and I'll tell the boys
to keep clear of your neighborhood in the meantime."

As the two Cross-Triangle men walked toward their horses, Helen and
Stanford heard Phil ask, "But where is that steer, Patches?"

"I let him go," returned Patches.

"You let him go!" exclaimed the foreman. "After you had him roped and
tied? What did you do that for?"

Patches was confused. "Really, I don't know."

"I'd like to know what you figure we're up here for," said Phil,
sharply. "You not only waste two or three hours visiting with these
people, but you take my time trailing you up; and then you turn loose a
steer after you get him. It looks like you'd lost your head mighty bad,
after all."

"I'm afraid you're right, Phil," Patches answered quietly.

Helen looked at her husband indignantly but Stanford was grinning with
delight.

"To think," he murmured, "of Larry Knight taking a dressing-down like
that from a mere cowboy foreman!"

But Patches was by no means so meek in spirit as he appeared in his
outward manner. He had been driven almost to the verge of desperation by
the trying situation, and was fighting for self-control. To take his
foreman's rebuke in the presence of his friends was not easy.

"I reckon I'd better s