On our side of the stream rose a thick plantation of fir-trees intersected by a winding path.
Captain Stanwick stopped as we reached the place.

His eyes rested, in the darkening twilight, on the narrow space pierced by the path among the trees.

On a sudden he lifted his right hand, with the same cry of pain which we had heard before; with his left hand he took Miss Laroche by the arm.

"There!" he said.

"Look where I look! Do you see him there ?" As the words passed his lips, a dimly-visible figure appeared, advancing toward us along the path.
Was it the figure of a living man?
or was it the creation of my own excited fancy?
Before I could ask myself the question, the man advanced a step nearer to us.