“There are many.”

“And you know the right one?”

“I have spoken, brother.”

“I am satisfied. But we must clearly mark the trail for our surveyors and for the army.”

“We will mark it,” he said meaningly, “so that no Seneca dog can ever mistake which way we passed.”

I did not exactly understand him, but I nodded to Boyd and he gave the signal, and we began the descent through the warm twilight of an open forest that sloped to the creek a thousand feet below us.

Down and down we went, partly sliding, and plowing up the moss and leaves knee-deep, careless how we left our trail, as there