Before us, a little rock headland jutted out into the water. Don halted us, and we stood silent, gazing. I think that there is hardly any place more fantastic than a Bermuda shorefront in the moonlight. In these little eroded recesses, caves and grottoes one might expect to see crooked-legged gnomes, scampering to peer at the human intruder. Gnarled cedars, hanging precariously, might hide pixies and elves. A child's dream of fairyland, this reality of a Bermuda shorefront. "There it is!" * * * * * Willie's sibilant whisper dispelled my roaming fancy. We all turned to stare behind us in the direction of Willie's unsteady finger. And we all saw it--the white shape of a man down near the winding path we had just traversed. A wild thrill of fear, excitement, revulsion--call it what you will--surged over me. The thing had been following us! We stood frozen, transfixed. The shape was almost at the water level, a hundred feet or so away. It had stopped its advance; to all appearances it was a man standing there, calmly regarding us. Don and I swung around to face it, shoving Jane and Willie behind us. Willie had started off in terror, but Jane gripped him. "Quiet, Willie!" "There it is! See it--" "Of course we see it," Don whispered. "Don't talk. We'll wait; see what it does." We stood a moment. The thing was motionless. It was in a patch of shadow, but, as though gleaming with moonlight, it seemed to shine. Its glow was silvery, with a greenish cast almost phosphorescent. Was it standing on the path? I could not tell. It was too far away; too much in shadow. But I plainly saw that it had the shape of a man. Wraith, or substance? That also, was not yet apparent. Then suddenly it was moving! Coming toward us. But not floating, for I could see the legs moving, the arms swaying. With measured tread it was walking slowly toward us! Don's shotgun went up. "Bob, we'll hold our ground. Is it--is he armed, can you see?" "No! Can't tell." Armed! What nonsense! How could this wraith, this apparition, do us physical injury! "If--if he gets too close, Bob, by God, I'll shoot. But if he's human, I wouldn't want to kill him." * * * * * The shape had stopped again. It was fifty feet from us now, and we could clearly see that it was a man, taller than normal. He stood now with folded arms--a man strangely garbed in what seemed a white, tight-fitting jacket and short trunks. On his head was a black skull cap surmounted by a helmet of strange design. Don's voice suddenly echoed across the rocks. "Who are you?" The white figure gave no answer. It did not move. "We see you. What do you want?" Don repeated.