GRIMALKIN THE CAT 143 
many generations of cats had gone forth to their 
hunting. 
Overhead the skies were cloudy, with here and 
there a befogged star. The air swayed by the south 
wind was hot and heavy. Great moths and wheeling 
bats flitted by. From the ash tree the leaves fell 
now and then with a patter like a footstep. The 
woods cairie up almost to the doors of the house, and 
as Grimalkin listened, the piteous scream of a 
rabbit close at hand made his whiskers stiffen and 
his tail move. The roar of the river over the weir 
rose and fell, now low now loud, as the night wind 
carried it by. Grimalkin uttered an almost inaudible 
cry. The Night Longing, that mysterious power 
which draws all animals, wild and tame, gripped 
him. You may hear a dog howling the night-long 
by his kennel the Night Longing which he cannot 
obey hangs heavy over his mind. When evening 
comes the purring tabby dozing by the fire rises and 
steals into the cold and darkness without. It is 
always the same. Man has taken them and tamed 
them, worked them and cherished them, but once 
in a while the woods call the woods where their 
fathers were born and hunted and died and they 
go. It is also certain that those among men who 
spend much time alone under the free sky, feel the 
Night Longing also, and obey it. 
