“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, outlaw horses famous for their vicious, unsubdued spirits, and their fierce, untamed strength, were brought to match their wicked, unbroken wills against the cool, determined courage of the riders.  From the wide ranges, the steers that were to participate in the roping and bull-dogging contests were gathered and driven in.  From many a ranch the fastest and best of the trained cow-horses were sent for the various cowboy races.  And the little city, in its rocky, mile-high basin, upon which the higher surrounding mountains look so steadfastly down, again decked itself in gala colors, and opened wide its doors to welcome all who chose to come.

From the Cross-Triangle and the neighboring ranches the cowboys, dressed in the best of their picturesque regalia, rode into the town, to witness and take part in the sports.  With them rode Honorable Patches.