“Pale-face must first see him, or how paint him? Where painter?” “Ay, the surveyor saw the tree once, and marked it once, but that is not finding it again. Can you tell me where the oak stands? Mr. Littlepage will give the man who finds that corner a French crown. Put me anywhere on the line of the old survey, and I will ask favours of no one.” “Painted tree _there_,” said Susquesus, pointing a little scornfully at the map, as it seemed to me. “Pale-face can't find him in wood. Live tree out younder; Injin know.” Trackless pointed with great dignity towards the north east, standing motionless as a statue the while, as if inviting the closest possible scrutiny into the correctness of his assertion. “Can you lead us to the tree?” demanded Traverse, eagerly. “Do it, and the money is yours.” Susquesus made a significant gesture of assent; then he set about collecting the scanty remains of his dinner, a precaution in which we imitated him, as a supper would be equally agreeable as the meal just taken, a few hours later. When everything was put away, and the packs were on our shoulders--not on those of the Indians, for _they_ seldom condescended to carry burthens, which was an occupation for women--Trackless led the way, in the direction he had already pointed out. Well did the Onondago deserve his name, as it seemed to me, while he threaded his way through that gloomy forest, without path, mark or sign of any sort, that was intelligible to others. His pace was between a walk and a gentle trot, and it required all our muscles to keep near him. He looked to neither the right nor the left, but appeared to pursue his course guided by an instinct, or as the keen-scented hound follows the viewless traces of his game. This lasted for ten minutes, when Traverse called another halt, and we clustered together in council. “How much further do you think it may be to the tree, Onondago?” demanded the surveyor, as soon as the whole party was collected in a circle. “I have a reason for asking.” “So many minutes,” answered the Indian, holding up five fingers, or the four fingers and thumb of his right hand. “Oak with broken top, and pale-face marks, _there_.” The precision and confidence with which the Trackless pointed, not a little surprised me, for I could not imagine how any human being could pretend to be minutely certain of such a fact, under the circumstances in which we were placed. So it was, however; and so it proved in the end. In the mean time, Traverse proceeded to carry out his own plans. “As we are so near to the tree,” he said, for the surveyor had no doubt of the red-man's accuracy, “_we_ must also be near the line. The last runs north and south, on this part of the patent, and we shall shortly cross it. Spread yourselves, therefore, chain-bearers, and look for blazed trees; for, put me anywhere on the boundaries, and I'll answer for finding any oak, beech, or maple, that is mentioned in the corners.”