XIV.
And something was there in red Waban’s mien,
Which all the morn had drawn our Founder’s eyes;
For still he spake not, and was often seen
To bend his ear, or start as with surprise;
And now he stood, and, through the thicket’s screen,
The shadowy prospect seemed to scrutinize,
Then paused, unmoving, till a far-off howl
Did, with long echoes, through the stillness roll.
XV.