"Exactly," returned Patches, "I don't blame you. That fellow seems rather to demand careful treatment, doesn't he?" Phil laughed. "Oh, you don't need to be too particular about his feelings once you're up in the middle of him," he retorted. The big bay, instead of acquiring sense from his observations, as Phil had expressed to the Dean a hope that he would, seemed to have gained courage and determination. Phil's approach was the signal for a mad plunge in the young man's direction, which was checked by the skill and weight of Bob's trained cow-horse on the rope. Several times Phil went toward the bay, and every time his advance was met by one of those vicious rushes. Then Phil mounted Curly's horse, and from his hand the loop of another riata fell over the bay's head. Shortening his rope by coiling it in his rein hand, he maneuvered the trained horse closer and closer to his struggling captive, until, with Bob's co-operation on the other side of the fighting animal, he could with safety fix the leather blindfold over those wicked eyes. When at last hackamore and saddle were in place, and the bay stood trembling and sweating, Phil wiped the perspiration from his own forehead and turned to the stranger. "Your horse is ready, sir." The man's face was perhaps a shade whiter than its usual color, but his eyes were glowing, and there was a grim set look about his smiling lips that made the hearts of those men go out to him. He seemed to realize so that the joke was on himself, and with it all exhibited such reckless indifference to consequences. Without an instant's hesitation he started toward the horse. "Great Snakes!" muttered Curly to Bob, "talk about nerve!" The Dean started forward. "Wait a minute, Mr. Patches," he said. The stranger faced him. "Can you ride that horse?" asked the Dean, pointedly. "I'm going to," returned Patches. "But," he added with his droll humor, "I can't say how far." "Don't you know that he'll kill you if he can?" questioned the Dean curiously, while his eyes twinkled approval. "He does seem to have some such notion," admitted Patches. "You better let him alone," said the Dean. "You don't need to kill yourself to get a job with this outfit." "That's very kind of you, sir," returned the stranger gratefully. "I'm rather glad you said that. But I'm going to ride him just the same." They looked at him in amazement, for it was clear to them now that the man really could not ride. The Dean spoke kindly. "Why?" "Because," said Patches slowly, "I am curious to see what I will do under such circumstances, and if I don't try the experiment now I'll never know whether I have the nerve to do it or not." As he finished he turned and walked deliberately toward the horse. Phil ran to Curly's side, and the cowboy at his foreman's gesture leaped from his saddle. The young man mounted his helper's horse, and with a quick movement caught the riata from the saddle horn and flipped open a ready loop.