All during their advance through the woods, Andy had chopped off branches at intervals of a rod or so, leaving the partially severed limbs hanging and occasionally cutting the bark from a tree trunk.
“Why do you do that?” asked Phil.
“I’m blazing the trail, so you can ride over, whenever you like, without danger of getting lost. At first, when you go about your claim, you had better do the same. This is a bad country to get lost in, and to any one who doesn’t know the woods it’s mighty easy to miss the way.”
“But why don’t you cut the branches clean off?” queried Ted.
“Because a cut, or broken, hanging branch is everywhere the sign of a trail.”
Now mounting sharp inclines, now descending into gullies, the trio advanced, finally coming to a ridge below which extended a wooded flat.
“There’s your claim,” announced Andy, drawing rein. “At least, if I were you I’d choose it, but you can take up any of the land we’ve crossed, or in any direction you can see.”
As they realized they were looking upon the spot selected by both Mr. Hopkins and their guide as the site of their homestead, the boys gazed about them, too deeply affected to speak for many minutes.
“I’d like it if it weren’t all covered with trees,” finally declared Phil.
“You didn’t expect plowed ground, did you?” demanded their companion, sharply.