in a tone that he had never used before in speaking to Phil:
"And I have to answer, sir, that my business with Yavapai Joe is
entirely personal; that it has no relation whatever to your business as
the foreman of this ranch. As to why Joe didn't come to the house, you
must ask him; I don't know."

"You refuse to explain?" demanded Phil.

"I certainly refuse to discuss Joe Dryden's private affairs--that, so
far as I can see, are of no importance to anyone but himself--with you
or anyone else. Just as I should refuse to discuss any of your private
affairs, with which I happened, by some chance, to be, in a way,
familiar. I have made all the explanation necessary when I say that my
business with him has nothing to do with your business. You have no
right to ask me anything further."

"I have the right to fire you," retorted Phil, angrily.

Patches smiled, as he answered gently, "You have the right, Phil, but
you won't use it."

"And why not?"

"Because you are not that kind of a man, Phil Acton," answered Patches
slowly. "You know perfectly well that if you discharged me because of my
friendship with poor Yavapai Joe, no ranch in this part of the country
would give me a job. You are too honest yourself to condemn any man on
mere suspicion, and you are too much of a gentleman to damn another
simply because he, too, aspires to that distinction."

"Very well, Patches," Phil returned, with less heat, "but I want you to
understand one thing; I am responsible for the Cross-Triangle property
and there is no friendship in the world strong enough to influence me in
the slightest degree when it comes to a question of Uncle Will's
interests. Do you get that?"

"I got that months ago, Phil."

Without another word, the Dean's foreman left the room.

Patches sat for some time considering the situation. And now and then
his lips curled in that old, self-mocking smile; realizing that he was
caught in the trap of circumstance, he found a curious humor in his
predicament.

CHAPTER XII.

FRONTIER DAY.

Again it was July. And, with the time of the cattlemen's celebration of
the Fourth at hand, riders from every part of the great western cow
country assembled in Prescott for their annual contests. From Texas and
Montana, from Oklahoma and New Mexico and Wyoming, the cowboys came with
their saddles and riatas to meet each other and the men of Arizona in
friendly trials of strength and skill. From many a wild pasture, ou