ing," began the professor, in his small, thin
voice. Then as Patches, his eyes still on that oak bush, stood up, the
little man added, with hasty condescension, "Keep your seat, my man;
keep your seat. I assure you it is not my purpose to deprive you of Miss
Reid's company."

Patches grinned. By that "my man" he knew that Kitty had not enlightened
her teacher as to the "typical cowboy's" real character.

"That's all right, perfessor," he said awkwardly. "I just seen a
maverick over yonder a-piece. I reckon I'd better mosey along an' have a
closer look at him. Me an' Kitty here warn't talkin' nothin' important,
nohow. Just a gassin' like. I reckon she'd ruther go on home with you,
anyhow, an' it's all right with me."

"Maverick!" questioned the professor. "And what, may I ask, is a
maverick?"

"Hit's a critter what don't belong to nobody," answered Patches, moving
toward his horse.

At the same moment Kitty, who had risen, and was looking in the
direction from which the professor had come, exclaimed, "Why, there's
Yavapai Joe, Patches. What is he doing here?"

She pointed, and the professor, looking, caught a glimpse of Joe's back
as the fellow was slinking over the ridge.

"I reckon mebby he wants to see me 'bout somethin' or other," Patches
returned, as he mounted his horse. "Anyway, I'm a-goin' over that-a-way
an' see. So long!"

Patches rode up to Joe just as the Tailholt Mountain man regained his
horse on the other side of the ridge.

"Hello, Joe!" said the Cross-Triangle rider, easily.

The wretched outcast was so shaken and confused that he could scarcely
find the stirrup with his foot, and his face was pale and twitching with
excitement. He looked at Patches, wildly, but spoke in a sullen tone.
"What's he doin' here? What does he want? How did he get to this
country, anyhow?"

Patches was amazed, but spoke calmly. "Whom do you mean, Joe?"

"I mean that man back there, Parkhill--Professor Parkhill. What's he
a-lookin' for hangin' 'round here? You can tell him it ain't no
use--I--" He stopped suddenly, and with a characteristic look of
cunning, turned away.

Patches rode beside him for some distance, but nothing that he could say
would persuade the wretched creature to explain.

"Yes, I know you're my friend, all right, Patches," he answered. "You
sure been mighty friendly ter me, an' I ain't fergettin' it. But I ain't
a-tellin' nothin' to nobody, an' it ain't a-goin' to do you no good to
go aski