A slight smile lightened the cowboy's face, as he
noticed his companion's troubled thought.
"I suppose I've done it now," said Patches, as though expecting
well-merited censure.
Phil's smile broadened. "You sure have," he returned, as he wiped the
sweat from his face. "I'm much obliged to you."
Patches looked at him in confused embarrassment.
"Don't you know that you saved my life?" asked Phil dryly.
"But--but, I killed a good horse for the Dean," stammered Patches.
To which the Dean's foreman returned with a grin, "I reckon Uncle Will
can stand the loss--considering."
This relieved the tension, and they laughed together.
"But tell me something, Patches," said Phil, curiously. "Why didn't you
shoot the bull when he charged me?"
"I didn't think of it," admitted Patches. "I didn't really think of
anything."
The cowboy nodded with understanding approval. "I've noticed that the
man to tie to, in sudden trouble, is the man who doesn't have to think;
the man, I mean, who just does the right thing instinctively, and waits
to think about it afterwards when there's time."
Patches was pleased. "I did the right thing, then?"
"It was the only thing you _could_ do to save my life," returned Phil
seriously.
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