"And you actually rode out to meet me?" "Actually," he smiled. They chatted about the rodeo, and the news of the countryside--for it had been several weeks since they had met--and so reached the point of the last ridge before you come to the ranch. Then Patches asked, "May we ride over there on the ridge, and sit for a while in the shade of that old cedar, for a little talk? It's early yet, and it's been ages since we had a pow-wow." Reaching the point which Patches had chosen, they left their horses and made themselves comfortable on the brow of the hill, overlooking the wide valley meadow and the ranches. "And now," said Kitty, looking at him curiously, "what's the talk, Mr. Honorable Patches?" "Just you," said Patches, gravely. "Me?" "Your own charming self," he returned. "But, please, good sir, what have I done?" she asked. "Or, perhaps, it's what have I not done?" "Or perhaps," he retorted, "it's what you are going to do." "Oh!" "Miss Reid, I am going to ask you a favor--a great favor." "Yes?" "You have known me now almost a year." "Yes." "And, yet, to be exact, you do not know me at all." She did not answer, but looked at him steadily. "And that, in a way," he continued, "makes it easy for me to ask the favor; that is, if you feel that you can trust me ever so little--trust me, I mean, to the extent of believing me sincere." "I know that you are sincere, Patches," she answered, gravely. "Thank you," he returned. Then he said gently, "I want you to let me talk to you about what is most emphatically none of my business. I want you to let me ask you impertinent questions. I want you to talk to me about"--he hesitated; then finished with meaning--"about your career." She felt his earnestness, and was big enough to understand, and be grateful for the spirit that prompted his words. "Why, Patches," she cried, "after all that your friendship has meant to me, these past months, I could not think any question that you would ask impertinent Surely you know that, don't you?" "I hoped that you would feel that way. And I know that I would give five years of my life if I knew how to convince you of the truth which I have learned from my own bitter experience, and save you from--from yourself." She could not mistake his earnestness and in spite of herself the man's intense feeling moved her deeply. "Save me from myself?" she questioned. "What in the world do you mean, Patches?" "Is it true," he asked, "that your father is offering the ranch for sale, and that you are going out of the Williamson Valley life?" "Yes, but it is not such a sudden move as it seems. We have often talked about it at home--father and mother and I." "But the move is to be made chiefly on your account, is it not?"