"When the snow falls, and covers the lodges of the Long-knives, can
the stranger see flakes in the air?"

"My eyes are none of the best now," returned the old man a little
resentfully, "but the time has been when I had a name for my sight!"

"The Red-skins find the Big-knives as easily as the strangers see the
buffaloe, or the travelling birds, or the falling snow. Your warriors
think the Master of Life has made the whole earth white. They are
mistaken. They are pale, and it is their own faces that they see. Go!
a Pawnee is not blind, that he need look long for your people!"

The warrior suddenly paused, and bent his face aside, like one who
listened with all his faculties absorbed in the act. Then turning the
head of his horse, he rode to the nearest angle of the thicket, and
looked intently across the bleak prairie, in a direction opposite to
the side on which the party stood. Returning slowly from this
unaccountable, and to his observers, startling procedure, he riveted
his eyes on Inez, and paced back and forth several times, with the air
of one who maintained a warm struggle on some difficult point, in the
recesses of his own thoughts. He had drawn the reins of his impatient
steed, and was seemingly about to speak, when his head again sunk on
his chest, and he resumed his former attitude of attention. Galloping
like a deer, to the place of his former observations, he rode for a
moment swiftly, in short and rapid circles, as if still uncertain of
his course, and then darted away, like a bird that had been fluttering
around its nest before it takes a distant flight. After scouring the
plain for a minute, he was lost to the eye behind a swell of the land.