Any negro enjoys being questioned because he enjoys not answering questions. Most of all he enjoys any puzzling exercise of his mother wit. "A bushy woods?" "Yes, a bushy woods." "What do you want with a bushy woods?" "I want to find where there is one." The negro hesitated: "there's a bushy woods about four miles out." "Is it on the pike?" "On the pike! Did you ever see a bushy woods on the pike? It's _beside_ the pike." "Right side or left side?" "Depends which way you're going. Right side if you are going out, left side if you're coming in." "You say it's four miles out?" "You pass the three mile post and then you go a little further." "Are there any birds in it?" "Birds? There's owls in it. There's coons in it." "Do you know a young canebrake when you see one?" "I know an old hempbrake when I see one." Webster enjoyed his new authority in holding up his negro and questioning him about a forest. And it seemed to him that the moment had come when it was right to use money if you had it, horns or no horns. He pulled out a dime. The negro, too surprised to speak, came across and received it. He declined to express thanks but felt disposed to show that he had earned the money by repeating a piece of information: "It's four miles out." "Is there much of it?" "Much of it? Much as you want." "Do you live in it?" "No, I don't live in it: I live in a house." He had retaken his seat on the wagon-tongue. "What kind of pipe stem is that you are using?" "What kind? It's a cane pipe stem." "Where did you get the cane?" "Where did I get it? I got it in the woods." "Then there _is_ young cane growing in the woods?" "Who said there wasn't?" Webster, beginning this morning to use his eyes, took notice of something which greatly interested him as the wagon moved slowly off down the pike: strands of hemp clung to it here and there like a dry hanging moss. The geologist had told them that his own boyhood lay far back in the era of great Kentucky hemp-raising. Much of the hemp was broken in March, the month of high winds. As the hemp-breakers busily shook out their handfuls while separating the fibre from the shard, strands were carried away on the roaring gales, lodging against stubble and stumps and fences of the fields or blown further on into the pastures. Later when it was baled and hauled in, other filaments were caught on the rafters and shingles of hemp-houses and barns. Thus when in April the northward migration of birds reached Kentucky, this material was everywhere ready and plentiful, and the Baltimore orioles on the bluegrass plateau built their long hanging nests of Kentucky hemp. Webster, sitting on the fence and thinking of this, meantime laid his plans for the larger adventure of the following day: the clue he sought had unexpectedly been found: he would go out to the place where young cane grew: there he might have a real chance at the warbler.