Of course, I don't mean to say
that education and that sort of thing spoils every man. Now, there's
young Stanford Manning--"

If the Dean had suddenly fired a gun at Patches, the young man could not
have shown greater surprise and consternation. "Stanford Manning!" he
gasped.

At his tone the Dean turned to look at him curiously. "I mean Stanford
Manning, the mining engineer," he explained. "Do you know him?"

"I have heard of him," Patches managed to reply.

"Well," continued the Dean, "he came out to this country about three
years ago--straight from college--and he has sure made good. He's got
the education an' culture an' polish an' all that, an' with it he can
hold his own among any kind or sort of men livin'. There ain't a
man--cow-puncher, miner or anything else--in Yavapai County that don't
take off his hat to Stanford Manning."

"Is he in this country now?" asked Patches, with an effort at
self-control that the Dean did not notice.

"No, I understand his Company called him back East about a month ago.
Goin' to send him to some of their properties up in Montana, I heard."

When his companion made no comment, the Dean said reflectively, as Buck
and Prince climbed slowly up the grade to the summit of the Divide,
"I'll tell you, son, I've seen a good many changes in this country. I
can remember when there wasn't a fence in all Yavapai County--hardly in
the Territory. And now--why the last time I drove over to Skull Valley I
got so tangled up in 'em that I plumb lost myself. When Phil's daddy an'
me was youngsters we used to ride from Camp Verde and Flagstaff clean to
Date Creek without ever openin' a gate. But I can't see that men change
much, though. They're good and bad, just like they've always been--an' I
reckon always will be. There's been leaders and weaklin's and just
betwixt and betweens in every herd of cattle or band of horses that ever
I owned. You take Phil, now. He's exactly like his daddy was before
him."

"His father must have been a fine man," said Patches, with quiet
earnestness.

The Dean looked at him with an approving twinkle. "Fine?" For a few
minutes, as they were rounding the turn of the road on the summit of the
Divide where Phil and the stranger had met, the Dean looked away toward
Granite Mountain. Then, as if thinking aloud, rather than purposely
addressing his companion, he said, "John Acton--Honest John, as
everybody called him--and I came to this country together when we wer