"Sure," put in Purdy, with amiable intent.

"But when it comes to Mr. Keller I can explain myself tol'able well. I
don't need any help there, Jim, not even if he is yore best friend."

"If you've got anything to say against him, I'll ask you to say it when
I'm not around," broke in Phil. "You'll recollect, please, that he's
_my_ friend, too."

"That so? Since, when, Phil?" the rodeo boss retorted sarcastically.

"Since he went into the fire after me and saved my life. Think I'm a
coyote to round on him? I tell you he's a white man clear through. In my
opinion, he's neither a rustler nor a bank robber." He was flushed and
excited, but his gaze met that of his former friend and challenged him
defiantly.

Healy's eyes narrowed. He gazed at the boy darkly, as if he meant to
read him through and through. For years he had dominated Phil, had
shaped him to his ends, had led him into wild, lawless courses after
him. Now the anchors were dragging. He was losing control of him. He
resolved to turn the screws on him, but not at this time and place.

"I've always been considered a full-grown man, Phil. What I think I aim
to say out loud when the notion hits me. That being so, I go on record
as having an opinion about Keller. You think he's on the square, and you
give him a whitewashed certificate as a bony-fidy Sunday-school scholar.

"Different here. I think him a coyote and a crook, and so I say it right
out in meeting. Any objections?" The gaze of the boss shifted from