"It looks like we could spare you best.

Tell Uncle Will to send the chuck wagon and three more punchers, and that we'll start for the home ranch Friday.

And be sure that you get back here to-morrow." "Shall I go now ?" "Yes, you can go now." Patches wheeled his horse and rode away, while Phil disappeared over the ridge in the direction from which he had come.
When the two cowboys were out of sight, Helen went straight to her husband, and to Stanford's consternation, when he took her in his arms, she was crying.
"Why, girl, what is it ?" he asked, holding her close.
But she only answered between sobs as she clung to him, "It--it's nothing--never mind, Stan.

I'm just upset." And Stanford quite naturally thought it was only a case of nerves caused by the danger through which she had passed.
For nearly an hour, Patches rode toward the home ranch, taking only such notice of his surroundings as was necessary in order for him to keep his direction.

Through the brush and timber, over the ridges down into valleys and washes, and along the rock-strewn mountain sides he allowed his horse to pick the way, and take his own gait, with scarcely a touch of rein or spur.
The twilight hour was beginning when he reached a point from which he could see, in the distance, the red roofs of the Cross-Triangle buildings.