with them so they would run no risk of having
them held up in the Custom House at Quebec. They were all provided with
passports, as the big European war was going on and they might have use
for this means of identification.

The boys arrived in New York without any unusual happenings, but Pud got
separated from them at the Big Pennsylvania Railroad Station and they
were worried until they saw his big good-natured form looming up at the
train gate at the Grand Central Station.

"Where have you been?" asked Bill.

"Gee, I'm glad I found you," said Pud. "How did you get lost?"

"We get lost, you big duffer," said Bill. "Why, you were the one that
got lost. We've been looking all over for you."

"That's rich," said Pud, breaking out into a big laugh. "I thought that
you were lost. I know New York like a book."

"You remind me of a little boy," said Bob. "A policeman found him
wandering round the Pennsylvania Railroad Station and on going up to
him, the little boy said, 'Have you seen my muvver. I think she's got
losted. I can't find her any place.'"

"Ha! ha! Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Pud. "That's good, but I don't see how you
can liken me to a little boy."

"All aboard! all aboard for the Montreal and Eastern Canada Express!"
yelled the crier.

"That means us, fellows," said Bob. "Let's hustle."

The three boys went through the gate and were soon sitting in the
Pullman bound for Quebec.

"That was some idea of father's to get us this drawing-room," said Bill.
"We'll certainly enjoy life on this trip."

"You bet," said Pud.

They certainly were traveling in style. They tossed up to see who would
get the lower berth or the sofa. Pud was the one left over and he got
the upper berth, whereupon Bill, who had the lower, said that he would
not take any chances but would take the upper berth himself. A
good-natured, argument followed and the result was that Bob took the
lower berth, Pud the sofa and Bill went upstairs. They awoke in the
morning to find themselves at Sherbrooke and to get their first taste of
the Canadian habitant. When they got down to stretch their legs before
breakfast, they found most of the Canadians speaking French.

"Here's a chance to spout your French, Bob," said Bill.

"Who told you that I talked French?" asked Bob.

"Father told me some time ago," answered Bill. "He said that you could
talk it like a native."

"I could a few years ago, but I'm rusty now, as I haven't talked French
for at