ce here."

The girl was touched by the hopelessness in his voice, but she felt that
it would be no kindness to offer him the relief of an encouraging word.
Her day with her eastern friends, and the memories that her meeting with
Mrs. Manning had aroused, convinced her more than ever that her old love
for Phil, and the life of which he was a part, were for her impossible.

When she did not speak, the cowboy said bitterly, "I noticed that your
fine friends did not take quite all your time. You found an opportunity
for a quiet little visit with Honorable Patches."

Kitty was angry now in earnest. "You are forgetting yourself, Phil," she
answered with cold dignity. "And I think that as long as you feel as you
do toward my friends, and can speak to me like this about Mr. Patches,
you are right in saying that you belong on the range. Mr. and Mrs.
Manning are here, I see. I am going to dine with them. Good-by!" She
turned away, leaving him standing there.

A moment he waited, as though stunned; then he turned to make his way
blindly out of the hotel.

It was nearly morning when Patches was awakened by the sound of someone
moving about the kitchen. A moment he listened, then, rising, went
quickly to the kitchen door, thinking to surprise some chance night
visitor.

When Phil saw him standing there the foreman for a moment said nothing,
but, with the bread knife in one hand and one of Stella's good loaves in
the other, stared at him in blank surprise. Then the look of surprise
changed to an expression of questioning suspicion, and he demanded
harshly, "What in hell are _you_ doing here?"

Patches saw that the man was laboring under some great trouble. Indeed,
Phil's voice and manner were not unlike one under the influence of
strong drink. But Patches knew that Phil never drank.

"I was sleeping," he answered calmly. "You woke me, I suppose. I heard
you, and came to see who was prowling around the kitchen at this time of
the night; that is all."

"Oh, that's all, is it? But what are you here for? Why aren't you in
Prescott where you are supposed to be?"

Patches, because he saw Phil's painful state of mind, exercised
admirable self-control. "I supposed I had a perfect right to come here
if I wished. I did not dream that my presence in this house would be
questioned."

"That depends," Phil retorted. "Why did you leave Prescott?"

Patches, still calm, answered gently. "My reasons for not staying in
Prescott are entir