They owned no manner of government or subordination. The father or head of the family obeyed no superior nor any command, and he himself only gave his advice or opinions. Consequently it was rarely that any great chief ever existed, and then only in time of war. It is true that when several families went to war, or to the factories to trade, they chose a leader, but to such a one obedience was only voluntary; everyone was at liberty to leave when he pleased, and the notion of a commander was soon obliterated. Merit alone gave title to distinction; such merit as an experienced hunter could boast, or one who possessed knowledge of communication between lakes and rivers, who could make long harangues, was a conjurer, or had a large family. Such a man was sure to be followed by several Indians when they happened to be out in large parties. They likewise followed him down to trade at the settlements, although upon such occasions he was forced to secure their attendance by promises and rewards, as the regard paid to his ability was of too weak a nature to command subjection. In war a mutual resentment forced their union for perpetrating vengeance. The Hudson's Bay Indian's method of dividing time was by numbering the nights elapsed or to come. Thus, if he were asked how long he had been on his journey, he would answer, "so many nights." From the nocturnal division he proceeded to lunar or monthly reckoning, twelve to a year, all of these moons being symbolical of some remarkable event or appearance. Their method of computing numbers was abstruse, they reckoning chiefly by decades: two-tens, three-tens, ten-tens. A few units over or under were added or subtracted, thirty-two being three-tens and two over. If they reckoned any large number a skin or stick was laid down for every ten, and afterwards tied in a bundle for the aggregate. [Sidenote: Intelligence of the Indians.] The servants of the Company were not a little astonished at the wonderful intuition of the Indian, which enabled him to forego the advantage to be derived from a compass, and yet to rarely miss his way. The trees, he knew, were all bent to the south, and the branches on that side were larger and stronger than on the north, as was also the moss. To apprise his women of the spot where the game was killed, he broke off branches here and there, laying them in the path with their ends pointed in the requisite direction. In winter, when the braves went abroad they rubbed themselves all over with bear's grease or beaver oil, treating in this fashion, too, the furs they wore.