"Do you mean to say that you spent the night up there on the Divide without blankets or anything?" "Yes, sir, I did." "And where did you stop last night?" "At Simmons." "Walked, I suppose?" The stranger smiled. "Yes." "But, look here," said the puzzled cowboy, "I don't mean to be asking questions about what is none of my business, but I can't figure it out. If you were coming out here to get a job on the Cross-Triangle, why didn't you go to Mr. Baldwin in town? Anybody could have pointed him out to you. Or, why didn't you say something to me, when we were talking back there on the Divide?" "Why, you see," explained the other lamely, "I didn't exactly want to work on the Cross-Triangle, or anywhere." "But you told Uncle Will that you wanted to work here, and you were on your way when I met you." "Yes, I know, but you see--oh, hang it all, Mr. Acton, haven't you ever wanted to do something that you didn't want to do? Haven't you ever been caught in a corner that you were simply forced to get out of when you didn't like the only way that would get you out? I don't mean anything criminal," he added, with a short laugh. "Yes, I have," returned the other seriously, "and if you don't mind there's no handle to my name. Around here I'm just plain Phil, Mr. Patches." "Thanks. Neither does Patches need decorating." "And now, one more," said Phil, with his winning smile. "Why in the name of all the obstinate fools that roam at large did you walk out here when you must have had plenty of chances to ride?" "Well, you see," said Patches slowly, "I fear I can't explain, but it was just a part of my job." "Your job! But you didn't have any job until this afternoon." "Oh, yes, I did. I had the biggest kind of a job. You see, that's what I was doing on the Divide all night; trying to find some other way to do it." "And do you mind telling me what that job is?" asked Phil curiously. Patches laughed as though at himself. "I don't know that I can, exactly," he said. "I think, perhaps, it's just to ride that big bay horse out there." Phil laughed aloud--a hearty laugh of good-fellowship. "You'll do that all right." "Do you think so, really," asked Patches, eagerly. "Sure; I know it." "I wish I could be sure," returned the strange man doubtfully--and the cowboy, wondering, saw that wistful look in his eyes. "That big devil is a man's horse, all right," mused Phil. "Why, of course--and that's just it--don't you see?" cried the other impulsively. Then, as if he regretted his words, he asked quickly, "Do you name your horses?" "Sure," answered the cowboy; "we generally find something to call them." "And have you named the big bay yet?" Phil laughed. "I named him yesterday, when he broke away as we were bringing the bunch in, and I had to rope him to get him back." "And what did you name him?" "Stranger." "Stranger! And why Stranger?" "Oh, I don't know. Just one of my fool notions," returned Phil. "Good-night!" CHAPTER V.