CHAPTER VII
"What do you see?" Fionn demanded of the watcher.
"Nothing," that man replied.
"Look again," said Fionn.
The eagle-eyed man lifted a face, thin and sharp as though it had been carven on the wind, and he stared forward with an immobile intentness.
"What do you see?" said Fionn.
"Nothing," the man replied.
"I will look myself," said Fionn, and his great brow bent forward and gloomed afar.
The watcher stood beside, staring with his tense face and unwinking, lidless eye.
"What can you see, O Fionn?" said the watcher.
"I can see nothing," said Fionn, and he projected again his grim, gaunt forehead. For it seemed as if the watcher stared with his whole face, ay, and with his hands; but Fionn brooded weightedly on distance with his puckered and crannied brow.
They looked again.
"What can you see?" said Fionn.
"I see nothing," said the watcher.
"I do not know if I see or if I surmise, but something moves," said Fionn. "There is a trample," he said.
195
