nd them, what are their districts, how much fur they kill."

"Ah hah!" assented the Indian. Sam's leisurely and indirect method had
convinced him. Easily given information on the other hand would have set
him to thinking; and to think, with an Indian, is usually to become
suspicious.

The two descended to the shore. There they squatted on their heels
before a little patch of wet sand while the Indian explained. He marked
roughly, but with almost the accuracy of a survey, the courses of
streams and hills, and told of the routes among them. Sam listened, his
gnarled mahogany hand across his mouth, his shrewd gray eyes bent
attentively on the cabalistic signs and scratches. An Indian will
remember, from once traversing it, not only the greater landmarks, but
the little incidents of bowlder, current, eddy, strip of woods, bend of
trail. It remains clear-cut in his mind forever after. The old woodsman
had in his long experience acquired something of this faculty. He
comprehended the details, and, what is more, stored them away in his
memory where he could turn to them readily. This was no small feat.

With an abrupt movement of the back of his hand the Indian smoothed the
sand. Squatting back more on his haunches, he refilled his pipe and
began to tell of the trappers. In their description he referred always
to the map he had drawn on Bolton's imagination as though it had
actually lain spread out before them. Sam referred each name to its
district, as you or I would write it across the section of a chart, and
kept accurately in mind which squares of the invisible map had been thus
assigned and which not. It was an extraordinary effort, but one not
unusual among practised woods runners. This peculiarly minute and
concrete power of recollection is early developed in the wild life.

The Indian finished. Sam remained a moment in contemplation. The
districts were all occupied, and the name of Jingoes did not appear.
That was, however, a small matter. The Ojibway might well have changed
his name, or he might be paying for the privilege of hunting in another
man's territory. A less experienced man would have been strongly
tempted to the more direct question. But Sam knew that the faintest hint
of ulterior motive would not be lost on the Indian's sharp perceptions.
An inquiry, carelessly and indirectly made, might do no harm. But then
again it might. And it was better to lose two years of time in the
search than a single grain of