"When he turned over I sure thought it was all day for me.

Believe me, I won't forget this, Patches." For another moment there was an embarrassed silence; then Patches said, "What puzzles me is, why you didn't take a shot at him, after you were up, instead of risking your neck again trying to rope him." "Why, there was no use killing a good bull, as long as there was any other way.

It's my business to keep him alive; that's what I started in to do, wasn't it ?" And thus the cowboy, in a simple word or two, stated the creed of his profession, a creed that permits no consideration of personal danger or discomfort when the welfare of the employer's property is at stake.
When they had removed saddle and bridle from the dead horse and had cleaned the ugly wound in the bull's side, Phil said, "Now, Mr.
Honorable Patches, you'd better move on down the wash a piece, and get out of sight behind one of those cedars.

This fellow is going to get busy again when I let him up.

I'll come along when I've got rid of him." A little later, as Phil rode out of the cedars toward Patches, a deep, bellowing challenge came from up the wash.
"He's just telling us what he'll do to us the next chance he gets," chuckled Phil.