. "I knew you would do that when you understood, or I
wouldn't have bothered to show you my credentials."

"My mistake," returned Curly. "It's them there credentials of yourn, not
your name, that's hell."

He gingerly mounted his horse again, and Patches turned back to the Dean
as though apologizing for the interruption.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but--about work?"

The Dean never told anyone just what his thoughts were at that
particular moment; probably because they were so many and so
contradictory and confusing. Whether from this uncertainty of mind; from
a habit of depending upon his young foreman, or because of that
something, which Phil and the stranger seemed to have in common, he
shifted the whole matter by saying, "It's up to Phil here. He's foreman
of the Cross-Triangle. If he wants to hire you, it's all right with me."

At this the two young men faced each other; and on the face of each was
a half questioning, half challenging smile. The stranger seemed to say,
"I know I am at your mercy; I don't expect you to believe in me after
our meeting on the Divide, but I dare you to put me to the test."

And Phil, if he had spoken, might have said, "I felt when I met you
first that there was a man around somewhere. I know you are curious to
see what you would do if put to the test. I am curious, too. I'll give
you a chance." Aloud he reminded the stranger pointedly, "I said we
might use you if you could ride."

Patches smiled his self-mocking smile, evidently appreciating his
predicament. "And I said," he retorted, "that I didn't see why I
couldn't."

Phil turned to his grinning but respectful helpers. "Bring out that bay
with the blazed face."

"Great Snakes!" ejaculated Curly to Bob, as they reached the gate
leading to the adjoining corral. "His name is Patches, all right, but
he'll be pieces when that bay devil gets through with him, if he can't
ride. Do you reckon he can?"

"Dunno," returned Bob, as he unlatched the gate without dismounting. "I
thought he couldn't fight."

"So did I," returned Curly, grimly nursing his battered face. "You cut
out the horse; I can't more'n half see."

It was no trouble to cut out the bay. The big horse seemed to understand
that his time had come. All day he had seen his mates go forth to their
testing, had watched them as they fought with all their strength the
skill and endurance of that smiling, boy-faced man, and then had seen
them as they returned, sweating, trem