question of time. In fact, John admitted this to himself, but to no one
else.

He entered the ramshackle 'bus, and was driven a long distance through
very sandy streets to the hotel on the St. Lawrence, and, securing a
room, made arrangements to be called before daybreak. He engaged the
same driver who had taken him out to "The Greys," as it was locally
called, on the occasion of his-former visit.

The morning was cold and dark. Trenton found the buckboard at the door,
and he put his camera under the one seat--a kind of a box for the
holding of bits of harness and other odds and ends. As he buttoned up
his overcoat he noticed that a great white steamer had come in the
night, and was tied up in front of the hotel.

"The Montreal boat," explained the driver.

As they drove along the silent streets of Three Rivers, Trenton called
to mind how, on the former occasion, he thought the Lower Canada
buckboard by all odds, the most uncomfortable vehicle he had ever ridden
in, and he felt that his present experience was going to corroborate
this first impression. The seat was set in the centre, between the front
and back wheels, on springy boards, and every time the conveyance jolted
over a log--a not unfrequent occurrence--the seat went down and the back
bent forward, as if to throw him over on the heels of the patient horse.

The road at first was long and straight and sandy, but during the latter
part of the ride there were plenty of hills, up many of which a plank
roadway ran; so that loads which it would be impossible to take through
the deep sand, might be hauled up the steep incline.