" he exclaims, "the constant and varied exercise of the
inductive reasoning powers called into play in the pursuit must exert
a beneficial effect on the mind, and the actual pleasure of riding and
killing a boar is doubly enhanced by the knowledge that he has been
found by the fair and sporting exercise of one's own bump of
'woodcraft.' The sharpness of intellect which we are wont to associate
with the detective is nothing more than the result of training that
inductive reasoning, which is almost innate in the savage. To the
child of the jungle the ground with its signs is at once his book, his
map, and his newspaper. Remember the volume of meaning contained in
the single print of Friday's foot on Crusoe's beach." And so he
advises officers in India to go with a native tracker to the jungle
and watch him and learn from him "the almost boundless art of deducing
and piecing together correctly information to be gathered from the
various signs found." The importance of tracking, and the art of it,
is shown in an interesting story which B.-P. tells, a story which
demonstrates the close relationship of hunter and scout. A sportsman
in India was out tiger-shooting early one morning, with two
professional trackers walking in front of his elephant, and the usual
company of beaters behind. As they went along, the fresh pugs of a
tiger were seen on the ground, but the professional trackers passed on
without so much as a sign of having noticed the spoor. In a minute the
beaters were up with the professionals, asking, with Asiatic irony, if
they had eyes in their professional heads. To which one of the
trackers merely replied, "Idiots! at what time do rats run about?" And
then the humbled coolies went back to look at the spoor again, and
there they saw, after a close scrutiny, the delicate tracing of a
little field-rat's feet over the mighty pugs of Stripes. This rat only
comes out of its hole early in the night, and retires long before the
Eastern day begins, so that several hours had elapsed since the tiger
journeyed that way, and the professional was a better man than the
amateur.

Baden-Powell has all the qualifications that go to make a good scout.
His eye is as keen as the hawk's, and many a time "by keeping his eyes
skinned" he has done useful, if unobtrusive, work. Once he was riding
in the night with despatches for headquarters' camp, guiding himself
by the stars. Arriving at the place where he thought the camp ought to
be