At the summit of the bluff, he sat down to wait. He did not know what he was waiting for. That did not matter. The prairies knew. They had the Great Wisdom; the Wisdom of the Wolves.
Suddenly, to the north, he saw a pair of glowing eyes that watched him less than a dozen yards away, as motionless as if suspended in the air.
Dusty Star did not move an eyelid. He was not frightened. But he knew now that things were beginning to happen, and it made him feel a little strange. And beyond the eyes, further to the east, a pale light glimmered, which he knew would be the twilight that goes before the moon.
By degrees, as the glimmer grew, Dusty Star saw a shape that gathered about the eyes. It crouched a little, like a coyote. It looked bigger than a fox. And then he became gradually aware as the light increased, that he and the eyes were not alone. He counted one, two, three, four more pairs of eyes with shadows darkening about them east, west, and south. And beyond them there was an outer circle of similar shadows in the likeness of prairie wolves.
The light grew stronger. The moon rose. Dusty Star found himself the centre of a circle of coyotes who sat motionless on their haunches as if waiting for some signal.
Then, from a neighbouring ridge, there broke, clear and ringing, the long voice of a wolf.
The coyotes stiffened with attention. Then, first one, and then another, lifted its head and began to bark. The barking became louder. By degrees, the separate voices began to blend together in a wild, unequal chorus. And now and then some hunched shape; upon an outer ring would become a voice to swell the clamour till it rang echoing from ridge to ridge.
More and more, as the sound drove in upon him, Dusty Star felt a strange sense take hold of him; and as each separate set of barks changed to the combined roar of the final squawl, his entire body shivered to the thrill.
He felt the creatures all about him now. And yet they were not strange. The coyote world, the fox world, the world of the wolves and of the other prairie folk, was closing in upon him in narrower and narrower circles, hemming him in with a roar of sound.
He did not know what the chorus meant, nor what wild impulse urged the coyotes to sing. Nor could he tell why he himself should feel so strangely a part of it all. In the moonlight everything was very clear. For prairie eyes, it was not likely to make mistakes as to what one saw. Yet suddenly Dusty Star stared as if his eyes were starting out of his head.