On the Trail | Page 5

the uninitiated the trails will appear
the same, but there is a difference which, in a recent number of Field
and Stream, Mr. Arthur Rice defines very clearly in this way: "Men
step on things. Animals step over or around things." Then again an
animal trail frequently passes under bushes and low branches of trees
where men would cut or break their way through. To follow an animal
trail is to be led sometimes to water, often to a bog or swamp, at times
to the animal's den, which in the case of a bear might not be exactly
pleasant.
[Illustration: Returning to camp by the blazed trail.
Note the blazed trees.]
=Lost in the Woods=
We were in the wilderness of an Adirondack forest making camp for

the day and wanted to see the beaver-dam which, we were told, was on
the edge of a near-by lake. The guide was busy cooking dinner and we
would not wait for his leisure, but leaving the rest of the party, we
started off confidently, just two of us, down the perfectly plain trail.
For a short distance there was a beaten path, then, suddenly, the trail
came to an abrupt end. We looked this side and that. No trail, no
appearance of there ever having been one. With a careless wave of his
arm, the guide had said: "Keep in that direction." "That" being to the
left, to the left we therefore turned and stormed our way through thicket
and bramble, breaking branches as we went. Sliding down declivities,
scrambling over fallen trees, dipping beneath low-hung branches, we
finally came out upon the shore of the lake and found that we had
struck the exact spot where the beaver-dam was located.
It was only a short distance from camp and it had not taken us long to
make it, but when we turned back we warmly welcomed the sight of
our blazed trail, for all else was strange and unfamiliar. Going there had
been glimpses of the water now and then to guide us, returning we had
no landmarks. Even my sense of direction, usually to be relied on and
upon which I had been tempted to depend solely, seemed to play me
false when we reached a place where our blazing was lost sight of. The
twilight stillness of the great forest enveloped us; there was no sign of
our camp, no sound of voices. A few steps to our left the ground fell
away in a steep precipice which, in going, we had passed unnoticed and
which, for the moment, seemed to obstruct our way. Then turning to
the right we saw a streak of light through the trees that looked, at first,
like water where we felt sure no water could be if we were on the right
path; but we soon recognized this as smoke kept in a low cloud by the
trees--the smoke of our camp-fire. That was our beacon, and we were
soon on the trail again and back in camp. This is not told as an
adventure, but to illustrate the fact that without a well-blazed trail it is
easier to become lost in a strange forest than to find one's way.
You may strike the trail with the one object in view of reaching your
destination as quickly as possible. This will help you to become agile
and sure-footed, to cover long distances in a short time, but it will not
allow of much observation until your mind has become alert and your

eyes trained to see quickly the things of the forests and plains, and to
read their signs correctly. Unless there is necessity for haste, it is better
to take more time and look about you as you go. To hurry over the trail
is to lose much that is of interest and to pass by unseeingly things of
great beauty. When you are new to the trail and must hurry, you are
intent only on what is just before you--usually the feet of your
guide--or if you raise your eyes to glance ahead, you notice objects
simply as things to be reached and passed as quickly as possible.
Unhurried trailing will repay you by showing you what the world of the
wild contains.
Walking slowly you can realize the solemn stillness of the forest, can
take in the effect of the gray light which enfolds all things like a veil of
mystery. You can stop to examine the tiny-leafed, creeping vines that
cover the ground like moss and the structure of the soft mosses with
fronds like ferns. You can catch the jewel-like gleam of the wood
flowers. You can breathe deeply and rejoice in the perfume of the
balsam and pine. You can rest at intervals and wait quietly for
evidences