Now, what I'd do if I was a Track-a-mist, I'd
give the critters lots o' chance to leave tracks. I'd fix it all
round with places so nothing could come or go 'thout givin' us his
impressions of the trip. I'd have one on each end of the trail coming
in, an' one on each side of the creek where it comes in an' goes out."
"Well, Sam, you have a pretty level head. I wonder I didn't think of
that myself."
"My son, the Great Chief does the thinking. It's the rabble--that's
you and Sappy--that does the work."
But all the same he set about it at once with Yan, Sappy following
with a _slight limp now_. They removed the sticks and rubbish for
twenty feet of the trail at each end and sprinkled this with three
or four inches of fine black loam. They cleared off the bank of the
stream at four places, one at each side where it entered the woods,
and one at each side where it went into the Burns's Bush.
"Now," said Sam, "there's what I call visitors' albums like the one
that Phil Leary's nine fatties started when they got their brick house
and their swelled heads, so every one that came in could write their
names an' something about 'this happy, happy, ne'er-to-be-forgotten
visit'--them as could write.
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