“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.” “Were the men many in number?” “Wingenund cannot surely say; the trail was old and beaten; buffalo had passed on it; of fresh marks he could not see many; more than four, not so many as ten.” “Let my brother point with his finger to the line of the trail.” The youth slowly turned, cast his eye upward at the sun, thence at the rocks overhanging the valley to the northward, and then pointed steadily in a north–easterly direction. War–Eagle, well assured that his own observation had been correct, and that he had followed a trail leading towards the north–west, thus continued: “There are many nations and bands of Indians here; a false light may have shone on the path. How does my young brother know that the feet of the Washashee had trodden it?” There was a natural dignity, without the slightest touch of vanity, in the manner of the youth, as he replied: “The Great Spirit has given eyes to Wingenund, and he has learnt from War–Eagle to know the mocassin of a Washashee from that of a Dahcotah, a Pawnee, a Shawano, or a Maha.” After musing a moment, War–Eagle continued, “Did my brother find the foot of Olitipa and the Comanche girl on the path?” “He could not find the mark of their feet, yet he believes they are on the path,” was the unhesitating reply.