“A compass cannot err, of course; but it would be a troublesome thing to be stopping every minute or two, to look at your compass, which must have time to become steady, you will remember, or it would become a guide that is worse than none.”
“Every minute or two! Say once in an hour, or once in half an hour, at most. I would engage to travel as straight as the best Indian of them all, by looking at my compass once in half an hour.”
Susquesus was seated near enough to us three to over hear our conversation, and he understood English perfectly, though he spoke it in the usual, clipped manner of an Indian. I thought I could detect a covert gleam of contempt in his dark countenance, at this boast of Guert's; but he made no remark. We finished our meal, rested our legs; and, when our watches told us it was one o'clock, we rose in a body to resume our march. We were renewing the priming of our rifles, a precaution each man took twice every day, to prevent the effects of the damps of the woods, when the Onondago quietly fell in behind Guert, patiently waiting the leisure of the latter.
“We are all ready, Trackless,” cried the Albanian “give us the lead and the step, as before.”
“No”—answered the Indian. “Compass lead, now Susquesus no see any longer,—blind as young dog.”
“Oh! that is your game, is it! Well, let it be so. Now, Corny, you shall learn the virtue there is in a compass.”
Hereupon Guert drew his compass from a pocket in his hunting-shirt, placed it on a log, in order to get a perfectly accurate start, and waited until the quivering needle had become perfectly stationary. Then he made his observation, and took a large hemlock, which stood at the distance of some twenty rods, a great distance for a sight in the forest, as his land-mark, gave a shout, caught up his compass, and led off. We followed, of course, and soon reached the tree. As Guert now fancied he was well entered on the right course, he disdained to turn to renew his observation, but called out for us to 'come on;' as he had a new tree for his guide, and that in the true direction. We may have proceeded in this manner for half a mile, and I began to think that Guert was about to triumph—for, to me, it did really seem that our course was as straight as it had been at any time that day. Guert now began to brag of his success, talking to me, and at the Indian, who was between us over his shoulder.
“You see, Corny,” he said, “I am used to the bush, after all, and have often been up among the Mohawks, and on their hunts. The great point is to begin right; after which you can have no great trouble. Make certain of the first ten rods, and you can be at ease about the ten thousand that are to follow. So it is with life, Corny, boy; begin right, and a young man is pretty certain of coming out right. I made a mistake at the start, and you see the trouble it has given me. But, I was left an orphan, Littlepage, at ten years of age; and the boy that has neither father nor money, must be an uncommon boy not to kick himself out of the traces before he is twenty. Well, Onondago, what do you say to following the compass, now!”
“Best look at him—he tell,” answered Susquesus, our whole line halting to let Guert comply.
“This d——d compass will never come round!” exclaimed Guert, shaking the little instrument in order to help the needle round to the point at which he wished to see it stand. “These little devils are very apt to get out of order, Corny after all.”