off somewhere alone while he
spends his time riding over the country with you."

They laughed up at him as he sat there on the big bay, hat in hand,
looking down into their upturned faces with the intimate, friendly
interest of an older brother.

Patches noticed that Kitty's eyes were bright with excitement, and that
Phil's were twinkling with suppressed merriment.

"I must go, Patches," said the young woman. "I ought to have gone two
hours ago; but I was so interested that the time slipped away before I
realized."

"We have company," explained Phil, looking at Patches and deliberately
closing one eye--the one that Kitty could not see. "A distinguished
guest, if you please. I'll loan you a clean shirt for supper; that is,
if mother lets you eat at the same table with him."

"Phil, how can you!" protested Kitty.

The two men laughed, but Phil fancied that there was a hint of anxiety
in Patches' face, as the man on the horse said, "Little Billy broke the
news to me. Who is he?"

"A friend of Judge Morris in Prescott," answered Phil. "The Judge asked
Uncle Will to take him on the ranch for a while. He and the Judge
were--"

Kitty interrupted with enthusiasm. "It is Professor Parkhill, Patches,
the famous professor of aesthetics, you know: Everard Charles Parkhill.
And he's going to spend the summer in Williamson Valley! Isn't it
wonderful!"

Phil saw a look of relief in his friend's face as Patches answered Kitty
with sympathetic interest. "It certainly will be a great pleasure, Miss
Reid, especially for you, to have one so distinguished for his
scholarship in the neighborhood. Is Professor Parkhill visiting Arizona
for his health?"

Something in Patches' voice caused Phil to turn hastily aside.

But Kitty, who was thinking how perfectly Patches understood her,
noticed nothing in his grave tones save his usual courteous deference.

"Partly because of his health," she answered, "but he is going to
prepare a series of lectures, I understand. He says that in the crude
and uncultivated mentalities of our--"

"Here he is now," interrupted Phil, as the distinguished guest of the
Cross-Triangle appeared, coming slowly toward them.

Professor Everard Charles Parkhill looked the part to which, from his
birth, he had been assigned by his over-cultured parents. His slender
body, with its narrow shoulders and sunken chest, frail as it was,
seemed almost too heavy for his feeble legs. His thin face, bloodless
and sa