I did not feel the same repugnance towards this creature which I had experienced in my encounters with the other beast men. “You,” he said, “in the boat.” He was a man, then⁠—at least as much of a man as Montgomery’s attendant⁠—for he could talk.

“Yes,” I said, “I came in the boat. From the ship.”

“Oh!” he said, and his bright, restless eyes travelled over me, to my hands, to the stick I carried, to my feet, to the tattered places in my coat, and the cuts and scratches I had received from the thorns. He seemed puzzled at something. His eyes came back to my hands. He held his own hand out and counted his digits slowly, “One, two, three, four, five⁠—eigh?”

I did not grasp his meaning then; afterwards I was to find that a great proportion of these beast people had malformed hands, lacking sometimes even three digits. But guessing this was in some way a greeting, I did the same thing by way of reply. He grinned with immense satisfaction. Then his swift roving glance went round again; he made a swift movement⁠—and vanished. The fern fronds he had stood between came swishing together.