"He wants you to help him." "Me! What's the matter with Jack ?" "He's goin' to the D.1 to-morrow." Phil was examining the wrapping on his saddle horn with--the Dean noted--quite unnecessary care.
"Kitty was over this mornin'," said the Dean gently.
The young man turned, and, taking off his spurs, hung them on the saddle horn.

Then as he kicked off his leather chaps he said shortly, "I'm not looking for a job as a professional bronco-buster." The Dean's eyes twinkled.

"Thought you might like to help a neighbor out; just to be neighborly, you know." "Do you want me to ride for Reid ?" demanded Phil.
"Well, I suppose as long as there's broncs to bust somebody's got to bust 'em," the Dean returned, without committing himself.

And then, when Phil made no reply, he added laughing, "I told Kitty to tell him, though, that I reckoned you had as big a string as you could handle here." As they moved away toward the house, Phil returned with significant emphasis, "When I have to ride for anybody besides you it won't be Kitty Reid's father." And the Dean commented in his reflective tone, "It does sometimes seem to make a difference who a man rides for, don't it ?" In the pasture by the corrals, the horses that awaited the approaching trial that would mark for them the beginning of a new life passed a restless night.

Some in meekness of spirit or, perhaps, with deeper wisdom fed quietly.