"We got mixed up with a bull back yonder," Phil explained briefly.
"They can sure put a horse out o' the game mighty quick sometimes,"
commented the other. "I've lost a few that way myself. It's about as far
from here to my place as it is to Baldwin's, or I'd help you out. You're
welcome, you know."
"Much obliged," returned Phil, "but we'll make it home all right. I
reckon we'd better be moving, though. So long!"
"Adios!"
Throughout this brief exchange of courtesies, Yavapai Joe had not moved,
except to puff at his cigarette; nor had he ceased to regard Patches
with a stupid curiosity. As Phil and Patches moved away, he still sat
gazing after the stranger, until he was aroused by a sharp word from
Nick, as the latter turned his horse toward Tailholt Mountain. Without
changing his slouching position in the saddle, and with a final
slinking, sidewise look toward Patches, the poor fellow obediently
trailed after his master.
Patches could not resist the impulse to turn for another look at the
wretched shadow of manhood that so interested him.
"Well, what do you think of that pair?" asked Phil, breaking in upon his
companion's preoccupation.
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