And Phil, usually so silent when any conversation touched himself, and so timid always in expressing his own self thoughts, was strangely moved to permit this man to look upon the carefully hidden and deeper things of his life.

But upon his cherished dream--upon his great ambition--he kept the door fast closed.

The time for that revelation of himself was not yet.
"By the way, Phil," said Patches, when at last his companion signified that it was time for them to go.

"Where were you educated?
I don't think that I have heard you say." "I have no education," returned the young man, with a laugh that, to Patches, sounded a bitter note.

"I'm just a common cow-puncher, that's all." "I beg your pardon," returned the other, "but I thought from the books you mentioned--" "Oh, the books! Why, you see, some four years ago a real, honest-to-goodness book man came out to this country for his health, and brought his disease along with him." "His disease ?" questioned Patches.
Phil smiled.