"We shall become unduly weary waiting for you," cried Amy, who had entered the room during the latter part of Martine's speech. "I hope that you are both ready, for it is almost train time." "All aboard then," cried Martine. "If my hat is on straight, nothing need delay us. Let me help you with your valise, Priscilla. My luggage has gone on." When they reached the station Mrs. Redmond and her party found that after all they had some time to spare. At five minutes past the hour they took their seats. "Standard time, Halifax time, hotel time, local time," hummed Martine. "I wonder which we're starting by." Presently the conductor walked along the station platform to the little waiting-room, and from the open window they heard him speak to some one inside. "Have you made up your minds yet, ladies, about going?" he asked in a polite tone. "Oh, gracious, yes," exclaimed a shrill voice. "We were waiting for the bell;" and two elderly women hurried toward the train with their knitting in their hands. Amy had noticed them busily knitting there, in a corner, when she passed. It seemed, by the conductor's subsequent explanation, that knowing they were uncertain whether to go by that train or the next, he had patiently waited for them to decide. Bear River was one of the places where Mrs. Redmond had planned to stay. After a short railroad journey that included a passage over some wonderful bridges, beyond which was a great extent of water, and after a drive of five or six miles, they found themselves gazing down at picturesque Bear River. The beautiful town sloped to a broad stream, its white houses and spires half hidden by trees. "It reminds me of Switzerland," cried Martine. "It's a dream," exclaimed Priscilla. "I don't believe Fritz has seen anything more beautiful," added Amy. "It deserves a more beautiful name," said Mrs. Redmond. "But, really, mamma, it's named for Imbert, the explorer, and the name doesn't seem so bad when we think of that." Their day in Bear River proved to be a gala day of the town. They had arrived at the height of the Cherry Carnival, and games and boat-races and other festivities had been arranged as part of the celebration. The girls were up very early that first morning, and soon after breakfast Martine was out with her camera, taking snapshots in every direction. A fat old squaw in a red jersey pretended to be afraid of the kodak, and turned her head; but there was a grin on her face as she looked around, which Martine quickly caught. Another squaw, also fat, with a little pappoose in her arms and another clinging to her skirts, begged Martine to take her. "Where you live?" asked Martine, as if talking to a child. "Up there," pointing vaguely in the distance. "Where?" "Reservation; you come see." Martine was interested. "Is it far?" "Oh, no." "What's your name?" asked Martine. "Marie Brown. You find my house."