Francis and I had some interesting tramps together and one of my most enjoyable memories of these great tropical jungles is of this little red-man, short, well-built, muscular and absolutely tireless. I found him to be a great help in searching for certain rare birds and animals, and I learned a good deal of jungle craft from him. As one example among many things, I noticed that he never stepped on a log or fallen tree, and it was not until I had crashed through and hurt my ankle on one which had been undermined by ants that I realized how excellent a rule this was. A log of apparently the hardest wood might be but a shell thin as paper. The facility with which Francis found his way about in rain as well as sunshine was a puzzle, until by careful watching I found he was constantly making new trails by breaking, in the direction of the trail, tiny twigs, the leaves of which were of a slightly different color beneath. Such a mark every fifteen or twenty feet was almost a hopeless clue for me at first, although ultimately I learned to discover them more readily. As the breaking made no noise and was accomplished by the least motion of the hand, it was long before I detected it. When I went out alone I chose to leave a “blaze” every _ten_ feet! MARCH 30th.—At daybreak we started out on our first tramp, I with camera, bag, gun and glasses. Half a mile from the clearing I cached the camera and bag, the pace being such that I could not keep up while carrying them. I have hunted in Canada and elsewhere with first-rate guides and backwoodsmen, but this was a very different matter. From the moment we entered the jungle the whole demeanor of Francis was changed. He walked like a cat and _never for a moment_ relaxed his vigilance, and therein he differed from a white man, who would unconsciously relax when he thought game was still some distance away. His figure slipped silently on ahead of me, flowing under trunks, passing around the densest clumps of underbrush, while I followed and imitated as best I could, learning every minute more than I had ever known of the art of effacing oneself in the wilderness. Every step was made carefully and the entire field of view ahead swept, and every significant sound noted. A branch would fall with a series of resounding crashes and the Indian would apparently not hear it, while a cracking twig or a low rustle which I could scarcely detect would lead him off in an entirely new direction, not necessarily toward the sound, but often to flank it or get to leeward of it. During the first two or three hours we would give our whole attention to hunting, but when the day’s supply was provided, we then stalked the birds and wild creatures and watched them, as closely as we could.