It was late in the afternoon, when the last reluctant steer was prodded and pushed up the timbered runway from the pens, and crowded into the car. Curly and Bob were going with the cattle train. The others would remain at Skull Valley until morning, when they would start for their widely separated homes. Phil announced that he was going to the home ranch that night. "You can make it home sometime to-morrow, Patches," he finished, when he had said good-by to the little group of men with whom he had lived and worked in closest intimacy through the long weeks of the rodeo. He reined his horse about, even as he spoke, to set out on his long ride. The Cross-Triangle foreman was beyond hearing of the cowboys when Patches overtook him. "Do you mind if I go back to the Cross-Triangle with you to-night, Phil?" the cowboy asked quietly. Phil checked his horse and looked at his friend a moment without answering. Then, in a kindlier tone than he had used the past two days, he said, "You better stay here with the boys, and get your night's rest, Patches. You have had a long hard spell of it in this rodeo, and yesterday and to-day have not been exactly easy. Shipping is always hell, even when everybody is in a good humor," he smiled grimly. "If you do not object, I would really like to go," said Patches simply. "But your horse is as tired as you ought to be," protested Phil. "I'm riding Stranger, you know," the other answered. To which Phil replied tersely, "Let's be riding, then." The cowboys, who had been watching the two men, looked at each other in amazement as Phil and Patches rode away together. "Well, what do you make of that?" exclaimed one. "Looks like Honorable Patches was next," commented another. "Us old-timers ain't in it when it comes to associatin' with the boss," offered a third. "You shut up on that line," came sharply from Curly. "Phil ain't turnin' us down for nobody. I reckon if Patches is fool enough to want to ride to the Cross-Triangle to-night Phil ain't got no reason for stoppin' him. If any of you punchers wants to make the ride, the way's open, ain't it?" "Now, don't you go on the prod, too," soothed the other. "We wasn't meanin' nothin' agin Phil." "Well, what's the matter with Patches?" demanded the Cross-Triangle man, whose heart was sorely troubled by the mystery of his foreman's mood. "Ain't nobody _said_ as there was anything the matter. Fact is, don't nobody _know_ that there is." And for some reason Curly had no answer.