When Frank and Towzer had vanished out of sight Snap turned from the window with a sigh, and found the good-natured eyes of the bearded cattleman fixed inquiringly upon him. 'So you are not going to learn farming, my lad?' he inquired. 'Not with my friends, I can't afford it,' answered Snap. 'Don't think me rude, but what are you going to do?' 'Try to get work at Looloo, on the line, until I can find out how to get paid work as a cowboy up country.' 'Have you any money to keep you from starving till you get work?' asked the American. 'A little; but I mean to earn my food from the start if I can.' 'Well, you've the right sort of grit, my lad,' replied the cattle-man, 'and you're 200_l._ richer than your friends now, poor as you are, for they have thrown their premium clean away. Look here, my name is Nares, and I own the Rosebud ranche in Idaho. I like the look of you, lad, and I'll give you labourer's wages if you can earn them, and grub anyway, if you like to try.' 'Like to try?' of course Snap liked to try. It was just a fortune to him, and he said so. 'But,' added his friend, 'when you write home tell your friends not to fool away premiums, but to give a lad enough to live on for the first six months, whilst he is looking for work. You would, maybe, have got nothing to do at Looloo for long enough.' CHAPTER VIII THE MANIAC Winter is not, perhaps, the best time to introduce a boy to the Far West, fresh from all the cosy comforts of home--at least, if he is a boy of the 'cotton wool' kind. To a boy like Snap the keen air was worth a king's ransom; the forests of snow-laden pines through which the train passed were full of mystery and romance; his eyes ached at night from straining to catch a glimpse of some great beast of the forest amongst their tall stems, or at least a track on the pure snow.