The forest was the friend of Tayoga and he knew it. He could name the
trees, the elm and the maple, and the spruce and the cedar and all the
others. He knew the qualities of their wood and bark and the uses for
which every one was best fitted. He noticed particularly the great
maples, so precious to the Iroquois, from which they took sap and made
sugar, and which gave an occasion and name to one of their most sacred
festivals and dances. He also observed the trees from which the best
bows and arrows were made, and the red elms and butternut hickories, the
bark of which served the Iroquois for canoes.

When Tayoga passed through a forest it was not merely a journey, it was
also an inspection. He had been trained from his baby frame, _gaoseha_,
always to observe everything that met the human eye, and now he not only
examined the trees, but also the brooks and the little ravines and the
swell of the hills and the summits of the mountains that towered high,
many miles away. If ever he came back there he would know the ground and
all its marks.

His questing eye alighted presently upon the delicate traces of hoofs,
and, calling Robert's attention, the two examined them with the full
care demanded by their purpose.

"New," said Tayoga; "scarce an hour old."

"Less than that," said Robert. "The deer can't be far away."

"He is near, because there has been nothing to make him run. Here go the
traces in almost a half circle. He is feeding and taking his time."