ould flatten their noses against the window and
peer out.

"What are you looking for?" asked Mother Martin, the first time she saw
the children do this.

"Indians," answered Teddy, never turning around, for the train was still
in the wood and he did not want to miss any chance.

"Indians!" exclaimed his mother. "Why, what in the world put into your
head the idea that we should see Indians?"

"Well, Uncle Frank said there were Indians out West, even if they
weren't wild ones," answered Teddy, "and me and Jan wants to see some."

"Oh, you won't find any Indians around _here_," said Daddy Martin with a
laugh, as he laid aside the paper he was reading. "It is true there are
some out West, but we are not there yet, and, if we were, you would
hardly find the Indians so near a railroad."

"Can't we ever see any?" Jan wanted to know. "I don't just like Indians,
'cause they've always got a gun or a knife--I mean in pictures," she
hastened to add. "Course I never saw a _real_ Indian, 'ceptin' maybe in
a circus."

"You'll see some real ones after a while," her mother told her, and then
the children stopped pressing their noses flat against the car windows,
for the train had come out of the wood and was nearing a large city.
There, Jan and Ted felt sure, no Indians would be seen.

"But we'll keep watch," said Jan to her brother, "and maybe I'll see an
Indian first."

"And maybe I will! We'll both watch!" he agreed.

Something else that gave the children enjoyment was the passage through
the train, every now and then, of the boy who sold candy, books and
magazines. He would pass along between the seats, dropping into them, or
into the laps of the passengers, packages of candy, or perhaps a paper
or book. This was to give the traveler time to look at it, and make up
his or her mind whether or not to buy it.

A little later the boy would come along to collect the things he had
left, and get the money for those the people kept for themselves. Ted
and Jan were very desirous, each time, that the boy should sell
something, and once, when he had gone through the car and had taken in
no money, he looked so disappointed that Jan whispered to her father:

"Won't you please buy something from him?"

"Buy what?" asked Mr. Martin.

"A book or some candy from the newsboy," repeated the little girl. "He
looks awful sorry."

"Hum! Well, it _is_ too bad if he didn't sell anything," said Mr.
Martin. "I guess I can buy something. Wh