and extracted his gun from
the holster. Then, stepping back a few paces, he quietly waited.

Yavapai Joe, who had viewed the proceedings thus far with gaping mouth
and frightened wonder, scrambled into his saddle and reined his horse
about, as if to ride for his life.

"Wait, Joe!" called Patches sharply.

The weakling paused in pitiful indecision.

"Nick will be all right in a few minutes," continued the stranger,
reassuringly. "Stay where you are."

Even as he spoke, the man on the ground opened his eyes. For a moment he
gazed about, collecting his shocked and scattered senses. Then, with a
mad roar, he got to his feet and reached for his gun, but when his hand
touched the empty holster a look of dismay swept over his heavy face,
and he looked doubtfully toward Patches, with a degree of respect and a
somewhat humbled air.

"Yes, I have your gun," said Patches soothingly. "You see, I thought it
would be best to remove the temptation. You don't really want to shoot
me, anyway, you know. You only think you do. When you have had time to
consider it all, calmly, you'll thank me; because, don't you see, I
would make you a lot more trouble dead than I could possibly, alive. I
don't think that Mr. Baldwin would like to have me all shot to pieces,
particularly if the shooting were done by someone from Tailholt
Mountain. And I am quite sure that 'Wild Horse Phil' would be very much
put out about it."

"Well, what do you want?" growled Nick. "You've got the drop on me. What
are you after, anyway?"

"What peculiar expressions you western people use!" murmured Patches
sweetly. "You say that I have got the drop on you; when, to be exact,
you should have said that you got the drop _from_ me--do you see? Good,
isn't it?"

Nick's effort at self-control was heroic.

Patches watched him with an insolent, taunting smile that goaded the man
to reckless speech.

"If you didn't have that gun, I'd--" the big man began, then stopped,
for, as he spoke, Patches placed the weapon carefully on a rock and went
toward him barehanded.

"You would do what?"

At the crisp, eager question that came in such sharp contrast to
Patches' former speech, Nick hesitated and drew back a step.

Patches promptly moved a step nearer; and his words came, now, in answer
to the unfinished threat with cutting force. "What would you do, you
big, hulking swine? You can bully a weakling not half your size; you can
beat a helpless incompetent like a dog