stranger's roaming eyes fell upon Phil's old chaps, that in every
wrinkle and scar and rip and tear gave such eloquent testimony as to the
wearer's life, and that curious, self-mocking smile touched his lips.
Then, throwing up his head and looking the Dean straight in the eye, he
said boldly, but with that note of droll humor in his voice, "My name is
Patches, sir, Honorable Patches."

The Dean's eyes twinkled, but his face was grave. Phil's face flushed;
he had not failed to identify the source of the stranger's inspiration.
But before either the Dean or Phil could speak a shout of laughter came
from Curly Elson, and the stranger had turned to face the cowboy.

"Something seems to amuse you," he said quietly to the man on the horse;
and at the tone of his voice Phil and the Dean exchanged significant
glances.

The grinning cowboy looked down at the stranger in evident contempt.
"Patches," he drawled. "Honorable Patches! That's a hell of a name, now,
ain't it?"

The man went two long steps toward the mocking rider, and spoke quietly,
but with unmistakable meaning.

"I'll endeavor to make it all of that for you, if you will get off your
horse."

The grinning cowboy, with a wink at his companion, dismounted
cheerfully. Curly Elson was held to be the best man with his hands in
Yavapai County. He could not refuse so tempting an opportunity to add to
his well-earned reputation.

Five minutes later Curly lifted himself on one elbow in the corral dust,
and looked up with respectful admiration to the quiet man who stood
waiting for him to rise. Curly's lip was bleeding generously; the side
of his face seemed to have slipped out of place, and his left eye was
closing surely and rapidly.

"Get up," said the tall man calmly. "There is more where that came from,
if you want it."

The cowboy grinned painfully. "I ain't hankerin' after any more," he
mumbled, feeling his face tenderly.

"It said that my name was Patches," suggested the stranger.

"Sure, Mr. Patches, I reckon nobody'll question that."

"Honorable Patches," again prompted the stranger.

"Yes, sir. You bet; Honorable Patches," agreed Curly with emphasis.
Then, as he painfully regained his feet, he held out his hand with as
nearly a smile as his battered features would permit. "Do you mind
shaking on it, Mr. Honorable Patches? Just to show that there's no hard
feelin's?"

Patches responded instantly with a manner that won Curly's heart.
"Good!" he said