He looked steadily at his friend for a moment, then down at the ground, and finally he reined his horse out of Hank’s path and went slowly on his way toward Palos. It was all plain enough to him now. Uncle John and Ned wore store clothes and boiled shirts, and the settlers took them for horse-thieves and treated them accordingly. That was the English of it, and George wondered why he, knowing the customs of the country and the habits and opinions of the people as well as he did, had not been smart enough to see it without asking any questions. This was what he thought at first, and then he suddenly grew so angry that he could scarcely control himself. He drew up his horse with a jerk, faced about in his saddle and called after his friend. “Look here, Hank,” he shouted, shaking his fist in the air, “you may tell those people who shun my relatives because they would rather wear good clothes than shabby ones, and who go back on me because I live with them—you can tell those people that we are just as good as they dare be any day and just as honest!” “All right,” was Hank’s response. “And bear another thing in mind,” cried George, growing angrier every minute, “and that is, I am boy enough to make you, or any fellow like you, who says anything against them take back his words. I am going to stand by them, no matter what happens.” “I haven’t said anything against them,” answered Hank. “I think too much of you to do that. I’ll talk to you the next time I see you. Perhaps you will be better natured then.” This reply completely disarmed George, who promptly turned about, intending to ride up to his friend and take back every harsh word he had uttered; but Hank touched his horse with his spurs as soon as he ceased speaking, and was now almost out of earshot. So George was compelled to face about again and go on his way toward Palos, without making things straight with his friend. “Hank is a good fellow, that’s a fact,” said he to himself, “and I might have known that he wouldn’t say a word that he thought would offend me. But here’s one thing I can’t understand,” continued George, growing angry again. “If the settlers don’t want anything to do with Uncle John and Ned, is that any reason why they should give me the cold shoulder? If they don’t want to come to our rancho, they might at least treat me civilly when they meet me away from home. This is the strangest world I ever saw or heard of. If I should walk into Foxboro’, where Uncle John came from, with these clothes on, folks would look at me suspiciously, lock their back doors and keep an eye on their smoke-houses. He and Ned came into the country, dressed as I suppose all city folks dress, and every body is down on them, and ready to take them for anything in the world but an honest man and boy.”