"I guess I'll go to the graveyard, anyway," said the cow-puncher in his
offish voice, and looking fixedly in front of him.

They came into Washington Street, and again the elder McLean uneasily
surveyed the younger's appearance.

But the momentary chill had melted from the heart of the genial Lin.
"After to-morrow," said he, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "yu'
can start any lead yu' please, and I guess I can stay with yu' pretty
close, Frank."

Frank said nothing. He saw one of the members of his club on the other
side of the way, and the member saw him, and Frank caught diverted
amazement on the member's face. Lin's hand weighed on his shoulder, and
the stress became too great. "Lin," said he, "while you're running with
our crowd, you don't want to wear that style of hat, you know."

It may be that such words can in some way be spoken at such a time, but
not in the way that these were said. The frozen fact was irrevocably
revealed in the tone of Frank's voice.

The cow-puncher stopped dead short, and his hand slid off his brother's
shoulder. "You've made it plain," he said, evenly, slanting his steady
eyes down into Frank's. "You've explained yourself fairly well. Run along
with your crowd, and I'll not bother yu' more with comin' round and
causin' yu' to feel ashamed. It's a heap better to understand these
things at once, and save making a fool of yourself any longer 'n yu' need
to. I guess there ain't no more to be said, only one thing. If yu' see me
around on the street, don't yu' try any talk, for I'd be liable to close