An old Wild West fort is about to be attacked. The wily old general sends for his trusty Indian scout. "You must use all your thirty years of skill in trying to estimate the sort of army we are up against here."

The trusty Indian scout lies down and puts his ear to the ground. "Heap large war party," he says, "maybe three hundred braves, four chiefs, two on black stallions, two on white stallions. All have war paint. Many many guns. Medicine man also with them."

"Good grief!" exclaims the general. "You can tell all of that just by listening to the ground?"

"No," replies the Indian, "I can see under the gate."