'--Say, this has sure been some little ol' rodeo,
ain't it? I ain't got a hoss in my string that can more'n stand up, an'
honest to God, Patches, I'm jest corns all over. How's your saddle feel,
this mornin'?"

"It's got corns, too," admitted Patches. "But there's Phil; we'd better
be riding."

All that day Phil kept to himself, speaking to his companions only when
speech could not be avoided, and then with the fewest possible words.
That night, he left the company as soon as he had finished his supper,
and went off somewhere alone, and Patches heard him finding his bed,
long after the other members of the outfit were sound asleep. And the
following day, through the trying work of loading the cattle, the young
foreman was so little like himself that, had it not been that his men
were nearly all old-time, boyhood friends who had known him all his
life, there would surely have been a mutiny.

It was late in the afternoon, when the last reluctant steer was prodded
and pushed up the timbered runway from the pens, and crowded into the
car. Curly and Bob were going with the cattle train. The others would
remain at Skull Valley until morning, when they would start for their
widely separated homes. Phil announced that he was going to the home
ranch that night.

"You can make it home sometime to-morrow, Patches," he finished, when
he had said good-by to the little group of men with whom he had lived
and worked in closest intimacy through the long weeks of the rodeo. He
reined his horse about, even as he spoke, to set out on his long ride.

The Cross-Triangle foreman was beyond hearing of the cowboys when
Patches overtook him. "Do you mind if I go back to the Cross-Triangle
with you to-night, Phil?" the cowboy asked quietly.

Phil checked his horse and looked at his friend a moment without
answering. Then, in a kindlier tone than he had used the past two days,
he said, "You better stay here with the boys, and get your night's rest,
Patches. You have had a long hard spell of it in this rodeo, and
yesterday and to-day have not been exactly easy. Shipping is always
hell, even when everybody is in a good humor," he smiled grimly.

"If you do not object, I would really like to go," said Patches simply.

"But your horse is as tired as you ought to be," protested Phil.

"I'm riding Stranger, you know," the other answered.

To which Phil replied tersely, "Let's be riding, then."

The cowboys, who had been watching the two men