Then they hurried off home in a state of great and joyful excitement.

The hat exchange accomplished, the two new friends started to walk back
leisurely to the boarding house. Barrow's mind was full of curiosity
about this young fellow. He said,

"You've never been to the Rocky Mountains?"

"No."

"You've never been out on the plains?"

"No."

"How long have you been in this country?"

"Only a few days."

"You've never been in America before?"

Then Barrow communed with himself. "Now what odd shapes the notions of
romantic people take. Here's a young, fellow who's read in England about
cowboys and adventures on the plains. He comes here and buys a cowboy's
suit. Thinks he can play himself on folks for a cowboy,
all inexperienced as he is. Now the minute he's caught in this poor
little game, he's ashamed of it and ready to retire from it. It is that
exchange that he has put up as an explanation. It's rather thin,
too thin altogether. Well, he's young, never been anywhere, knows
nothing about the world, sentimental, no doubt. Perhaps it was the
natural thing for him to do, but it was a most singular choice, curious
freak, altogether."

Both men were busy with their thoughts for a time, then Tracy heaved a
sigh and said,

"Mr. Barrow, the case of that young fellow troubles me."

"You mean Nat Brady?"

"Yes, Brady, or Baxter, or whatever it was. The old landlord called him
by several different names."

"Oh, yes, he has been very liberal with names for Brady, since Brady fell
into arrears for his board. Well, that's one of his sarcasms--the old
man thinks he's great on sarcasm."

"Well, what is Brady's difficulty? What is Brady--who is he?"

"Brady is a tinner. He's a young journeyman tinner who was getting along
all right till he fell sick and lost his job. He was very popular before
he lost his job; everybody in the house liked Brady. The old man was
rather especially fond of him, but you know that when a man loses his job
and loses his ability to support himself and to pay his way as he goes,
it makes a great difference in the way people look at him and feel about
him."

"Is that so! Is it so?"

Barrow looked at Tracy in a puzzled way. "Why of course it's so.
Wouldn't you know that, naturally. Don't you know that the wounded deer
is always attacked and killed by its companions and friends?"

Tracy said to himself, while a chilly and boding discomfort spread itself
through his