"
If the Dean had not been so engrossed in his own thoughts, he would have
wondered at the strange effect of his words upon his companion. The
young man's face flushed scarlet, then paled as though with sudden
illness, and he looked sidewise at the older man with an expression of
shame and humiliation, while his eyes, wistful and pleading, were filled
with pain. Honorable Patches who had won the admiration of those men in
the Cross-Triangle corrals was again the troubled, shamefaced,
half-frightened creature whom Phil met on the Divide.
But the good Dean did not see, and so, encouraged by the other's
silence, he continued his dissertation. "Of course, I don't mean to say
that education and that sort of thing spoils every man. Now, there's
young Stanford Manning--"
If the Dean had suddenly fired a gun at Patches, the young man could not
have shown greater surprise and consternation. "Stanford Manning!" he
gasped.
At his tone the Dean turned to look at him curiously. "I mean Stanford
Manning, the mining engineer," he explained. "Do you know him?"
"I have heard of him," Patches managed to reply.
"Well," continued the Dean, "he came out to this country about three
years ago--straight from college--and he has sure made good.
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