Frank smiled to himself. Nelson had been "expecting a letter" every day for a year. Every boy in the village knew this, and occasionally guyed and jollied him about it.
Nelson's great ambition was to become a cowboy. On one occasion he had run away from home, bound for far-away Idaho. He got as far as the city, was nearly starved and half-frozen, and came home meekly the next day.
His father gave him a good, sensible talk. He tried to convince Nelson that he was too young to undertake the rough life of a cowboy. This failing, he agreed that if Nelson would get some respectable stockman in Idaho to ensure him a regular berth for a year, he would let him go west and pay his fare there.
Since then Nelson had spent nearly all the pocket money he could earn writing to people in Idaho, from the Governor down. Nobody seemed to want an inexperienced, home-bred boy to round their stock, however. Still, Nelson kept on hoping and trying.
"I'll risk your letter coming before your contract with me is finished. Nelson," said Frank kindly. " About this cowboy business, though—take my advice and that of your good, kind father: don't waste your best young years just for the sake
