"Admit it? No; sartin not: that ain't no critter's track," declared
Jerry.

"It's a bear's track," rejoined I. "You certainly are mistaken, Jerry.
Look! here is the imprint of the heel, and there the toes, as plain as
the nose on your face, and as clear as though made not an hour ago."

"Well, it may look like a bar's track, but 'tain't one. What you call the
heel and toes, is made by them spires of grass which the wind bends,
makin' 'em scoop out the sand, as you see thar. You ought to hev seen
that yourself; but you see you 'States' men never stop to think. If a
hundred was ter travel over them plains once a year for fifty years, not
more than one out er the hull lot would make a respectable woodsman."

"Why not?" interrupted both Hal and Ned, in a breath.

"Why not, youngsters? I'll tell you why: 'cause 'Mericans allus travel
with their mouths open and their eyes shet tight. A Mexican or Injun will
go all day without speakin', onless he's spoke to; but he'll see
everything there is ter be seen on the route: a 'Merican'll talk
continually, and see nothin' but a blasted dried-up country, that ain't
fit for nothin'."

"I wish I knew something about trailing," remarked Ned. "Can't you give
us a few general rules, Jerry?"

"Rules!" repeated Jerry, contemptuously, "what good d'yer s'pose rules 'ed
do you? Yer wouldn't foller 'em. P'r'aps ter-night, after we git inter
camp, if these cussed varmints'll let us alone long enuff, I'll give yer