“Glad you told me. Tonight when we make camp, I’ll send him to Dr. Brady.”
Dick stepped to one side to permit Toma to pass.
“Very well, then, you’ll take my place. But have I been going right, Toma? Don’t you think we ought to turn more to the left? I can’t imagine why it is, why I feel that way, I mean, but I keep thinking that we’re striking too far east.”
The Indian shook his head.
“No, I guess you go about right. Mebbe it no hurt to turn little more to left.”
Dick vaguely wondered.
“Why do you believe our course is about right?” he asked.
“All right,” returned Toma, “I tell you. In morning an’ at night when you look off that way,” Toma made a sweeping motion with one arm, “you see ’em big hill. We go towards that. We keep hill in front of us. If we go wrong on trail, big hill be one side or other—not in front. That’s how I know.”
“Hill,” said Dick, puzzled. “I haven’t seen any.”
“Then you not look very good. Mebbe you not look right time. Morning early, before sun him get too bright, you see ’em plain. Jus’ before sunset another good time. Tonight you try it an’ see.”