“Yes, I know a rubber tree. It has long, thick leaves. Some of them grow higher than I am,” David replied, proud of his knowledge. “I never saw one like that. This is one of the kind I mean,” and the man stopped. Before him was a tree fully seventy-five feet high and eighteen inches through at the base. At first it looked to David exactly like all the other trees around them. But a second glance showed a number of V-shaped welts distributed evenly around the lower part of the trunk. “Is that one?” he asked. “It is different from my kind, but I see. It will be easy to find the trees now that you have pointed one out to me. I could tell them from a distance on account of the way the bark grows.” The man burst into a laugh. “The bark don’t grow that way naturally,” he said. “This tree has been bled some time ago and those marks are the scars that have healed over.” He then explained the characteristics by which the hevea trees could be readily identified. The bark, for instance, was fairly smooth, and the long leaves grew in little clusters of three. They walked on rapidly winding to right and to left so as to find all the trees growing in a wide belt of country, but kept a straight course toward the east. After a while the guide stopped suddenly. “Do you know where we are?” he asked. “Yes, I think so,” David replied. “Where is camp?” “That way,” and David pointed north. “You’re wrong, but it’s my fault. I should have told you before; the best way to mark your trail in the jungle is to bend down twigs as you go along. The under sides of the leaves are much lighter than the upper sides, so you can see them a long way off. Watch!” He snapped a small branch and the two walked on. Looking back, David could easily distinguish the light, silvery under surface of the leaves on the branch that had been bent. After that he snapped twigs frequently, leaving a well-defined trail in back of them. They had spent nearly three hours in the forest and had penetrated a distance of fully four miles. “This will be enough trees to start with,” the Brazilian said, stopping. “I have spotted two hundred and fifty of them and they will keep you busy until you learn more about the work. After a while you can go as much further as you like. A good man works five or six hundred trees. But you will have your hands full with these now.” “What do I have to do?” David asked. “How do you milk a rubber tree?” “They are not milked,” the man replied with a superior air. “They are bled. We will take this one for an example. Watch what I do. Look closely and ask me any questions you want to.” He took the long-handled ax and standing on the tips of his toes made a number of quick cuts in the bark as high up as he could reach. Two incisions were always made together to form a V, and the blade was not driven straight into the bark but at an angle so that the cut had slanting edges.