If it is vital to know north, it is equally important to read country; to see by the slopes of the ground the direction of streams and watersheds, and to observe the phenomena of crossing or converging routes. One learns in time to forecast the nature of the country beyond the horizon. [Sidenote: Trail appearances] Most important of all is the difficult reading of tracks and the glints on grass, also the movements of birds and animals which in an arid country are signs for finding water. For the rest, it is useful to note the tracks on the trail showing who passed and when. It is wise, on meeting a man, to observe his horse brands, equipment, and all the many clues which show who and what he is as distinguished from what he says. It is a gross breach of taste to ask him a personal question; but by knowing all about him one may gauge the value of his trail directions. There is indeed a need for cautiousness, for not one man in a hundred gives accurate directions which can be safely followed. In central Colorado there used to be a lady rancher whose copious trail directions had endangered so many travellers that, for a radius of two {192} hundred miles, approaching horsemen were always warned by the neighbours to be deaf to her siren voice. GUIDES. Much as I like the savage as a man, I am cautious in engaging him as guide. On two occasions I arranged that my guide was to be shot if he showed up at home without my written release. Knowing that detail, my first guide was a success, but the second left me to die, and went home without my certificate. Rather than put one's trust in guides, maps, trail directions, the compass or any other form of vanity and vexation, it is wiser to rely on common sense in scouting. And there the indications given by one's horse are always valuable. [Sidenote: Scent, sight and sound] SCENT. It is doubtful if man or horse is ever perfectly healthy in civilization. Both suffer from chronic catarrh, so that the smaller animal has to carry and use a handkerchief. Under range conditions the kerchief is more useful round one's neck, for the nostrils are dry, and, both in horse and man, the senses are more active. At half a mile I have smelt a mountain river--like a wet knife. Once, at about five miles on a windless day my two horses snuffed a fresh pool and bolted for it at {193} full gallop despite my frantic protests at their apparent madness. Considering that we were lost in sand-rock desert, all three of us owed our lives to that small distant smell. The more vivid perfume of cattle I have caught up easily at four-and-a-half miles on the wind, but by their conduct I think my horses had that savour some miles before it reached my duller senses. I think the scenting powers of a horse are about ten times as strong as mine.