His faculties, like those of old fugitives and hunted creatures, had become trained to a marvelous keenness.

A long low breath of slow wind moaned through the willows, passed away; some stealthy, soft-footed beast trotted by him in the darkness; there was a rustling among dry leaves; a fox barked lonesomely in the distance.

But none of these sounds had broken his slumber.
Suddenly, piercing the stillness, came a bay of a bloodhound.

Quickly Duane sat up, chilled to his marrow.

The action made him aware of his crippled arm.