endowment of the faculty makes development possible.
No matter how long a direction-blind man
frequents the wilderness, he is never sure of himself.
Nor is the lack any reflection on the intelligence. I
once traveled in the Black Hills with a young fellow
who himself frankly confessed that after much
experiment he had come to the conclusion he could
not "find himself." He asked me to keep near him,
and this I did as well as I could; but even then,
three times during the course of ten days he lost
himself completely in the tumultuous upheavals and
canons of that badly mixed region. Another, an old
grouse-hunter, walked twice in a circle within the
confines of a thick swamp about two miles square.
On the other hand, many exhibit almost marvelous
skill in striking a bee-line for their objective point,
and can always tell you, even after an engrossing and
wandering hunt, exactly where camp lies. And I
know nothing more discouraging than to look up
after a long hard day to find your landmarks changed
in appearance, your choice widened to at least five
diverging and similar canons, your pockets empty
of food, and the chill mountain twilight descending.

Analogous to this is the ability to follow a dim
trail. A trail in the mountains often means merely a
way through, a route picked out by some prospector,
and followed since at long intervals by chance travelers.

It may, moreover, mean the only way through.