twilight of the summer midnights
He would be lying in camp , dozing lazily in the heat of the day , when suddenly his head would lift and his ears cock up , intent and listening , and he would spring to his feet and dash away , and on and on , for hours , through the forest aisles and across the open spaces where the niggerheads bunched . He loved to run down dry watercourses , and to creep and spy upon the bird life in the woods . For a day at a time he would lie in the underbrush where he could watch the partridges drumming and strutting up and down . But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights , listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest , reading signs and sounds as man may read a book , and seeking for the mysterious something that called -- called , waking or sleeping , at all times , for him to come . One night he sprang from sleep with a start , eager-eyed , nostrils quivering and scenting , his mane bristling in recurrent waves . From the forest came the call -LRB- or one note of it , for the call was many noted -RRB- , distinct and definite as never before , -- a long-drawn howl , like , yet unlike , any noise made by husky dog . And he knew it , in the old familiar way , as a sound heard before .