ring of the man who had not waited to think. It was over in a
second. As Patches swept by the child, he leaned low from the saddle;
and, as the next leap of his horse carried him barely clear of the
machine, they saw his tall, lithe body straighten, as he swung the baby
up into his arms.

Then, indeed, the crowd went wild. Men yelled and cheered; women laughed
and cried; and, as the cowboy returned the frightened baby to the
distressed mother, a hundred eager hands were stretched forth to greet
him. But the excited horse backed away; someone raised the rope barrier,
and Patches disappeared down the side street.

Helen's eyes were wet, but she was smiling. "No," she said softly to
Kitty and Stanford, "that was _not_ Lawrence Knight. Poor old Larry
never could have done that."

It was a little after the noon hour when Kitty, who, with her father,
mother and brothers, had been for dinner at the home of one of their
Prescott friends, was crossing the plaza on her way to join Mr. and Mrs.
Manning, with whom she was to spend the afternoon. In a less frequented
corner of the little park, back of the courthouse, she saw Patches. The
cowboy, who had changed from his ranch costume to a less picturesque
business garb, was seated alone on one of the benches that are placed
along the walks, reading a letter. With his attention fixed upon the
letter, he did not notice Kitty as she approached. And the girl, when
she first caught sight of him, paused for an instant; then she went
toward him slowly, studying him with a new interest.

She was quite near when, looking up, he saw her. Instantly he rose to
his feet, slipped the letter into his pocket, and stood before her, hat
in hand, to greet her with genuine pleasure and with that gentle
courtesy which always marked his bearing. And Kitty, as she looked up
at him, felt, more convincingly than ever, that this man would be
perfectly at ease in the most exacting social company.

"I fear I interrupted you," said the young woman. "I was just passing."

"Not at all," he protested. "Surely you can give me a moment of your
busy gala day. I know you have a host of friends, of course, but--well,
I am lonely. Curly and Bob and the boys are all having the time of their
lives; the Dean and mother are lunching with friends; and I don't know
where Phil has hidden himself."

It was like him to mention Phil in almost his first words to her. And
Kitty, as Patches spoke Phil's name, instantly, as sh