He was at the edge of
their line, the nearest to the swamp, and he had been watching patches
of ghostly light flitting above the rank water-weeds. For the past few
moments those wisps of faded radiance had been gathering into a growing
anthropomorphic blot hanging over the morass several yards away. And the
misty outlines were now assuming more concrete shape. He watched,
unable to believe in what he was seeing. At first the general outline,
non-defined as it was, made him think of a rock ape. But there were no
pointed ears above the round skull, no snout on the visage turned in
profile toward him.
More and more patches of swamp luminescence were drawn to that glowing
figure. What balanced there now, as if walking the treacherous surface
of the swampland, was no animal. It was a man, or the semblance of one,
a small, thin man--a man he had seen once before, on the terrace of
Asaki's mountain fortress.
The thing stood almost complete, its head cocked in what was an attitude
of listening.
"Lumbrilo!" Dane identified it, still knowing that the witch doctor
could not be standing there listening for them.
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