ButLinneveransweredanymore。Hemerelycametothesoda-waterfountainwiththewhiskey。Thepassingofdaysbroughtachokedseasonoffinesandandhardblazingsky。Heatroseupfromthegroundandhungheavilyovermanandbeast。Manyinsectssatoutinthesunrattlingwithjoy；thelittletearingrivergrewclearfromtheswollenmud，andshranktoasuccessionofstandingpools；andthefat，squattingcactusbloomedeverywhereintobutter-coloredflowersbigastulipsinthesand。TherewereartesianwellsinMesa，andthewaterdidnottasteverygood；butifyoudrankfromthestandingpoolswheretheriverhadbeen，yourepairedtothedrug-storealmostimmediately。Atroopofwanderingplayerscamedottingalongtherailroad，and，reachingMesa，playedabrass-bandupanddownthestreet，andannouncedthepowerfuldramaof“EastLynne。“ThenMr。McLeanthoughtoftheLynnmarshesthatliebetweenthereandChelsea，andoftheseathatmustlooksocool。HeforgotthemwhilefollowingthepainfulfortunesoftheLadyIsabel；but，goingtobedinthebackpartofthedrug-store，herememberedhowheusedtobeateverybodyswimminginthesaltwater。
　　“I’mgoin’，“hesaid。Thenhegotup，and，strikingthelight，heinspectedhisbankaccount。“I’msuregoin’，“herepeated，blowingthelightout，“andIcanbuythefattedcalfmyself，youbet!“forhehadoftenthoughtofthebishop’sstory。“Youbet!“heremarkedoncemoreinamuffledvoice，andwasasleepinaminute。Theapothecarywassorrytohavehimgo，andHoneywasdeeplygrieved。
　　“I’dpulloutwithyer，“hesaid，“onlyIcandobusinessroundYumaandwestwardwiththepinto。“
　　ForthreefarewelldaysLinandHoneyrovedtogetherinallsortsofplaces，wheretheywerewelcome，andoncemoreLinrodeahorseandwasinhisnativeelement。ThenhetravelledtoDeming，andsothroughDenvertoOmaha，wherehewastoldthathistrunkhadbeensoldforsomemonths。
　　Besidesasuitofclothesfortownwear，ithadcontainedabuffalocoatforhisbrother——somethingscarcetoseeinthesedays。
　　“Frank’llhavetogetalongwithoutit，“heobserved，philosophically，andtookthenexteastboundtrain。
　　IfyoujourneyinaPullmanfromMesatoOmahawithoutawaistcoat，andwithasilkhandkerchiefknottedoverthecollarofyourflannelshirtinsteadofatie，wearing，besides，tall，high-heeledboots，asoft，grayhatwithasplendidbrim，afewpeoplewillnoticeyou，butnotthemajority。NewMexicoandColoradoareusedtothesethings。AsIowa，withitsimmenserollinggrain，encompassesyou，peoplewillstarealittlemore，foryou’regettingneartheEast，wherecow-punchersarenotunderstood。Butinthosedaysthelineofcleavagecamesharp-drawnatChicago。Westoftherewasstilltolerablywest，buteastoftherewaseastindeed，andtheAtlanticOceanwasthenextimportantstopping-place。InLin’snewtrain，goodgloves，patent-leathers，andsilenceprevailedthroughoutthesleeping-car，whichwasforBostonwithoutchange。Hadnothomememoriesbegunimpetuouslytofloodhismind，hewouldhavefelthimselfconspicuous。Townclothesandconventionshadtheirduevaluewithhim。Butjustnowtheboy’ssingle-
　　heartedthoughtswerefarfromanysurroundings，andhewasmurmuringtohimself，“To-morrow!tomorrownight!“
　　TherewereladiesinthatblueplushcarforBostonwholookedatLinforthirtymilesatastretch；andbythetimeAlbanywasreachedthenextdayoneortwoofthemcommentedthathewasthemostattractive-lookingmantheyhadeverseen!Whereas，beyondhistallness，andwide-open，joculareyes，eyesthatseemedthoseofanothighlyconscientiouswildanimal，therewasnothingremarkableaboutyoungLinexceptstageeffect。
　　Theconductorhadbeenannoyedtohavesuchapassenger；butthecow-punchertroublednoone，andwasextremelysilent。Soevidentlywasheapieceofthetruefrontierthatcuriousandhopefulfellow-passengers，afterwatchinghimwithdiversion，morethanoncetookaseatnexttohim。Hemettheirchattyinquirieswithmonosyllablessofewandsounprofitableintheirquietpolitenessthatthepassengerssoongavehimup。AtSpringfieldhesentatelegramtohisbrotheratthegreatdry-goodsestablishmentthatemployedhim。
　　ThetrainbeganitshomestretchafterWorcester，andwhirledandswungbyhillsandpondshebegantowatchfor，andthroughstationswitholdwaysidenames。TheseflashedonLin’seyeashesatwithhishatoffandhisforeheadagainstthewindow，looking：Wellesley。Then，notlongafter，Riverside。ThatwastheCharlesRiver，anddidthepicnicwoodsusedtobeabovethebridgeorbelow？WestNewton；Newtonville；Newton。
　　“Faneuil’snext，“hesaidaloudinthecar，asthelong-forgottenhome-knowledgeshoneforthinhisrecollection。Thetravellerseatednearsaid，“Begpardon？“but，turning，wonderedattheall-unconsciousLin，withhisforeheadpressedagainsttheglass。Thebluewaterflashedintosight，andsoonaftertheywererunninginthedarknessbetweenhighwalls；butthecow-punchernevermoved，thoughnothingcouldbeseen。
　　Whentheporterannounced“Boston，“hestartedupandfollowedlikeasheepinthegeneralexodus。Downontheplatformhemovedalongwiththeslowcrowdtillsomeonetouchedhim，and，wheelinground，heseizedbothhisbrother’shandsandsworeagoodoathofjoy。
　　Theretheystood——thelong，brownfellowwiththesilkhandkerchiefknottedoverhisflannelshirt，greetingtremendouslythesprucecivilian，whohadarope-coloredmustacheandboreafaintheartedresemblancetohim。Thestorywasplainonitsfacetothepassers-by；
　　andoneoftheladieswhohadcomeinthecarwithLinturnedtwice，andsmiledgentlytoherself。
　　ButFrankMcLean’sheartdidnotwarm。Hefeltthatwhathehadbeenafraidofwastrue；andhesawhewasbeingmadeconspicuous。Hesawmenandwomenstareinthestation，andhesawthemstaringasheandhisWesternbrotherwentthroughthestreets。Linstrodealong，sniffingtheairofBoston，lookingatallthings，andmakingitastretchforhissleekcompaniontokeepstepwithhim。Frankthoughtoftherefinedfriendsheshouldhavetointroducehisbrotherto；forhehadrisenwithhissalary，andnowbelongedtoasmallclubwherethepaying-tellersofbanksplayedcardseverynight，andtheheadclerkattheParkerHousewaspresident。Perhapsheshouldnothavetorevealthecow-punchertotheseshiningones。Perhapsthecow-puncherwouldnotstayverylong。Ofcoursehewasgladtoseehimagain，andhewouldtakehimtodineatsomeobscureplacethisfirstevening。ButthiswasnotLin’splan。Frankmustdinewithhim，attheParkerHouse。Frankdemurred，sayingitwashethatshouldbehost。
　　“And，“headded，“theychargeuphighforwinesatParker’s。“Thenforthetwentiethtimeheshiftedasidelongeyeoverhisbrother’sclothes。
　　“You’regoin’totakeyourgrubwithme，“saidLin。“That’sallright，Iguess。Andthereain’tany’no’aboutit。Thingsisnotthesamelikeasiffatherwaslivin’——hisvoicesoftened——andheretoseemecomehome。NowI’mgoodforseveraldinnerswithwineschargeduphigh，I
　　expect，noritain’tnobodyinthisworld，barrin’justLinMcLean，thatI’veanyneedtoaskforanything。’Mr。McLean，’saysItoLin，’canyu’
　　sparemesomecash？’’Why，tobesure，youbet!’Andwe’llstartoffwithsteamedDuxburyclams。“Thecow-puncherslappedhispocket，wherethecoinmadeamuffledchinking。Thenhesaid，gruffly，“IsupposeSwampscott’sthereyet？“
　　“Yes，“saidFrank。“It’sadeadlittletown，isSwampscott。“
　　“IguessI’lltakealookattheoldhousetomorrow，“Linpursued。
　　“Oh，that’sbeenpulleddownsince——Iforgettheyeartheyimprovedthatblock。“
　　Linregardedinsilencehisbrother，whowasspeakingsojauntilyofthefirstandlasthometheyhadeverhad。
　　“Seventy-nineiswhenitwas，“continuedFrank。“SoyoucansavethetroubleoftravellingawaydowntoSwampscott。“
　　“IguessI’llgotothegraveyard，anyway，“saidthecow-puncherinhisoffishvoice，andlookingfixedlyinfrontofhim。
　　TheycameintoWashingtonStreet，andagaintheelderMcLeanuneasilysurveyedtheyounger’sappearance。
　　ButthemomentarychillhadmeltedfromtheheartofthegenialLin。
　　“Afterto-morrow，“saidhe，layingahandonhisbrother’sshoulder，“yu’
　　canstartanyleadyu’please，andIguessIcanstaywithyu’prettyclose，Frank。“
　　Franksaidnothing。Hesawoneofthemembersofhisclubontheothersideoftheway，andthemembersawhim，andFrankcaughtdivertedamazementonthemember’sface。Lin’shandweighedonhisshoulder，andthestressbecametoogreat。“Lin，“saidhe，“whileyou’rerunningwithourcrowd，youdon’twanttowearthatstyleofhat，youknow。“
　　Itmaybethatsuchwordscaninsomewaybespokenatsuchatime，butnotinthewaythattheseweresaid。ThefrozenfactwasirrevocablyrevealedinthetoneofFrank’svoice。
　　Thecow-puncherstoppeddeadshort，andhishandslidoffhisbrother’sshoulder。“You’vemadeitplain，“hesaid，evenly，slantinghissteadyeyesdownintoFrank’s。“You’veexplainedyourselffairlywell。Runalongwithyourcrowd，andI’llnotbotheryu’morewithcomin’roundandcausin’yu’tofeelashamed。It’saheapbettertounderstandthesethingsatonce，andsavemakingafoolofyourselfanylonger’nyu’needto。Iguessthereain’tnomoretobesaid，onlyonething。Ifyu’seemearoundonthestreet，don’tyu’tryanytalk，forI’dbeliabletocloseyourjawup，andmaybeyu’dhavemoreofajobexplainin’thattoyourcrowdthanyou’vehadmakin’meseewhatkindofamanI’vegotforabrother。“
　　Frankfoundhimselfstandingalonebeforeanyreplytothesesentenceshadoccurredtohim。Hewalkedslowlytohisclub，whereafriendjokedhimonhisglumness。
　　Linmadeasorefailureofamusinghimselfthatnight；andinthebright，hotmorninghegotintothetrainforSwampscott。Atthegraveyardhesawawomanlayabunchofflowersonamoundandkneel，weeping。
　　“Thereain’tnobodytodothatforthisone，“thoughtthecow-puncher，andlookeddownatthegravehehadcometosee，thenabsentlygazedatthewoman。
　　Shehadstolenawayfromherdailylifetocomeherewherehergriefwasshrined，andnowherheartfoundithardtobidthelonelyplacegoodbye。
　　Soshelingeredlong，herthoughtssunkdeepinthemotionlesspast。Whensheatlastlookedup，shesawthetall，strangemanre-enterfromthestreetamongthetombs，anddepositononeofthemanungainlylumpofflowers。TheywerewhatLinhadbeenablehastilytobuyinSwampscott。
　　Hespreadthemgentlyashehadnoticedthewomando，butheractofkneelinghedidnotimitate。Hewentawayquickly。Forsomehourshehungaboutthelittletown，aimlesslyloitering，watchingthesaltwaterwhereheusedtoswim。
　　“Yu’don’tbelonganymore，Lin，“hemiserablysaidatlength，andtookhiswaytoBoston。
　　Thenextmorning，determinedtoseethesights，hewasinNewYork，anddriftedabouttoallplacesnightandday，tillhismoneywasmostlygone，andnothingtoshowforitbutasomewhatpleasure-beatenfaceandadeephatredofthecrowded，scramblingEast。SohesuddenlyboughtaticketforGreenRiver，Wyoming，andescapedfromthecitythatseemedtonumbhisgoodhumor。
　　When，afterthreedays，theMissourilaybehindhimandhisholiday，hestretchedhislegsandtookhearttoseeoutofthewindowthesignsofapproachingdesolation。Andwhenonthefourthdaycivilizationwasutterlyemptiedoutoftheworld，hesawabunchofcattle，and，gallopingamongthem，hisspurredandbootedkindred。Andhismannertookonthatalertnessahorseshowsonturningintothehomeroad。AsthestagetookhimtowardWashakie，oldfriendsturnedupeveryfiftymilesorso，shamblingoutofacabinorastable，andsaying，incasualtones，“Hello，Lin，where’veyoubeenat？“
　　AtLander，theregotintothestageanotheroldacquaintance，theBishopofWyoming。HeknewLinatonce，andheldouthishand，andhisgreetingwashearty。
　　“Ittookaweekformyrobestocatchupwithme，“hesaid，laughing。
　　Then，inalittlewhile，“HowwastheEast？“
　　“First-rate，“saidLin，notlookingathim。Hewasshyoftheconversation’stakingamoralturn。Butthebishophadnointentionofreverting——atanyrate，justnow——totheirlasttalkatGreenRiver，andtheadvicehehadthengiven。
　　“Itrustyourfriendswereallwell？“hesaid。
　　“Iguesstheywashealthyenough，“saidLin。
　　“IsupposeyoufoundBostonmuchchanged？It’sabeautifulcity。“
　　“Goodenoughtownforthemthatlikesit，Iexpect，“Linreplied。
　　Thebishopwasforminganotionofwhatthemattermustbe，buthehadnonotionwhateverofwhatnowrevealeditself。
　　“Mr。Bishop，“thecow-punchersaid，“howwasthataboutthatfellowyoutoldaboutthat’sintheBiblesomewheres？——hecomehometohisfolks，andthey——welltherewashisfathersawhimcomin’“——Hestopped，embarrassed。
　　Thenthebishoprememberedthewide-openeyes，andhowhehadnoticedtheminthechurchattheagencyintentlywatchinghim。And，justnow，whatwerebesttosayhedidnotknow。Helookedattheyoungmangravely。
　　“Haveyu’gotaBible？“pursuedLin。“For，excuseme，butI’dlikeyu’toreadthatonced。“