The path feels its way by some better course than any other across the ravine. But, once on the high ground beyond, he finds that the path strikes out with utmost assurance in a straight line onward, ignoring entirely the river course. He puts his trust in the genius of those whose feet—now so long silent—broke it open, and goes on. Soon the path debouches smoothly out on the highlands above the water again, having gained several miles on the water-way, and followed a course as practicable as it is expeditious.
Thus the valley trails exhibit, to an excellent degree, the early instinct or genius of buffalo and Indian for selecting routes of least resistance; and, though a valley trail keeps within touch of the river, yet it often leaves it to skirt on to the next elbow by the shortest practicable route. Often, however, when a river trail thus leaves the river, a branch trace may be found to have followed the river's meanderings, joining the main trail where it swings back to the river. This was very often the case when Indian villages stood beside the river at a point where the
