he rest
of us. If we're guessin' on one side, you're guessin' on the other. I
admit that what you say sounds reasonable; but, hang it, I like Patches.
As for his name--well--we didn't use to go so much on names, in this
country, you know. The boy may have some good reason for not talkin'
about himself. Just give him a square chance; don't put no burrs under
his saddle blanket--that's all I'm askin'."

Jim laughed. The speech was so characteristic of the Dean, and Jim Reid
loved his old friend and neighbor, as all men did, for being, as was
commonly said, "so easy."

"Don't worry, Will," he answered. "I'm not goin' to start anything. If I
should happen to be right about Mr. Honorable Patches, he's exactly
where we want him. I propose to keep my eye on him, that's all. And I
think you an' Phil had better do the same."

CHAPTER XI.

AFTER THE RODEO.

As the fall rodeo swept on its way over the wide ranges, the last
reluctant bits of summer passed, and hints of the coming winter began to
appear The yellow glory of the goldenrod, and the gorgeous banks of
color on sunflower flats faded to earthy russet and brown; the white
cups of the Jimson weed were broken and lost; the dainty pepper-grass,
the thin-leafed grama-grass, and the heavier bladed bear-grass of the
great pasture lands were dry and tawny; and the broom-weed that had
tufted the rolling hills with brighter green, at the touch of the first
frost, turned a dull and somber gray; while the varied beauties of the
valley meadows became even as the dead and withered leaves of the Dean's
walnut trees that, in falling, left the widespread limbs and branches so
bare.

Then the rodeo and the shipping were over; the weeks of the late fall
range riding were past--and it was winter.

From skyline to skyline the world was white, save for the dark pines
upon the mountain sides, the brighter cedars and junipers upon the hills
and ridges, and the living green of the oak brush, that, when all else
was covered with snow, gave the cattle their winter feed.

More than ever, now, with the passing of the summer and fall, Kitty
longed for the stirring life that, in some measure, had won her from the
scenes of her home and from her homeland friends. The young woman's
friendship with Patches--made easy by the fact that the Baldwins had
taken him so wholly into their hearts--served to keep alive her memories
of that world to which she was sure he belonged, and such memories