A murmur of satisfaction ran through the assembly, and Reginald could scarcely restrain the open expression of his impatient joy.
“The trail is fresh,” continued the chief: “not more than two dews have fallen on the prints of foot and hoof.”
“Did my brother see the foot–marks of Olitipa and the Comanche girl?” inquired Reginald, hastily.
“He did not; but he saw the trail of Olitipa’s horse; iron is on two of its feet.”[61]
During this conversation, Wingenund more than once looked up in the face of his white brother, then cast his eyes again upon the ground without speaking. The expression of the youth’s countenance did not escape the observation of War–Eagle, who thus addressed him: “Has the young warrior of the race of Tamenund seen nothing? He has been far over the prairie; his step was the last to return to camp; his eyes are not shut: there are words in his breast; why are his lips silent?”
The youth modestly replied, in a voice, the singularly musical tone of which charmed and surprised Ethelston, who had seldom heard him speak before, “Wingenund waited until warriors who have seen many summers, and travelled the war–path often, should have spoken. Wingenund has been on the Washashee trail.”
At this announcement an exclamation of surprise was uttered by several of the bystanders, for all had seen that the direction whence the youth had returned to the camp was quite different from that which had been pursued by War–Eagle, and yet the latter had affirmed that he had been on the trail of the enemy. The chief himself was, indeed, surprised, but he knew the diffidence, as well as the acute sagacity of the young speaker; and although confident that he was not mistaken in his own judgment, he was not by any means disposed to overrule, without careful inquiry, that of his brother. The conversation between them was thus pursued:—
“Were there horses on the trail found by Wingenund?”
“There were not.”