It is probable that the elusive glow of the night added to his size as he stood there.
About his shoulders fell a mass of unkempt hair that looked like seaweed.

His beard was short and thick, and for a flash Philip saw the starlight in his eyes--eyes that were shining like the eyes of a cat.
In that same moment he saw the face.

It was a terrible, questing face--the face of a creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a creature half animal and half man.

So long as he lived he knew that he would never forget it; the wild savagery of it, the questing fire that was in the eyes, the loneliness of it there in the night, set apart from all mankind; and with the face he would never forget that other thing that came to him audibly--the throbbing, gasping heartbeat of the man's body.
In this moment Philip knew that the time to act was at hand.

His fingers gripped tighter about the butt of his revolver as he stepped forward out of the shadow.
Bram would have seen him then, but in that same instant he had flung back his head and from his throat there went forth a cry such as Philip had never heard from man or beast before.