hat it
cannot fall."

A fierce sun, that drew out all the smell of the sodden land, had
followed the storm, and in that clear light there was no room for a
man to think of dreams of the dark. Findlayson stared up-stream,
across the blaze of moving water, till his eyes ached. There was no
sign of any bank to the Ganges, much less of a bridge-line.

"We came down far," he said. "It was wonderful that we were not
drowned a hundred times."

"That was the least of the wonder, for no man dies before his time. I
have seen Sydney, I have seen London, and twenty great ports,
but"--Peroo looked at the damp, discoloured shrine under the
peepul--"never man has seen that we saw here."

"What?"

"Has the Sahib forgotten; or do we black men only see the Gods?"

"There was a fever upon me." Findlayson was still looking uneasily
across the water. "It seemed that the island was full of beasts and
men talking, but I do not remember. A boat could live in this water
now, I think."

"Oho! Then it _is_ true. 'When Brahm ceases to dream, the Gods die.'
Now I know, indeed, what he meant. Once, too, the _guru_ said as much
to me; but then I did not understand. Now I am wise."

"What?" said Findlayson over his shoulder.

Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself. "Six--seven--ten
monsoons since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle of the _Rewah_--the
Kumpani's big boat--and there was a big _tufan_, green and black water
beating; and I held fast to the life-lines, choking under the waters.
Then I thought of the Gods--of Those whom we saw to-night"--he stared
curiously at Findlayson's back, but the white man was looking across
the flood. "Yes, I say of Those whom we saw this night past, and I
called upon Them to protect me. And while I prayed, still keeping my
lookout, a big wave came and threw me forward upon the ring of the
great black bow-anchor, and the _Rewah_ rose high and high, leaning
toward the left-hand side, and the water drew away from beneath her
nose, and I lay upon my belly, holding the ring, and looking down into
those great deeps. Then I thought, even in the face of death, if I
lose hold I die, and for me neither the _Rewah_ nor my place by the
galley where the rice is cooked, nor Bombay, nor Calcutta, nor even
London, will be any more for me. 'How shall I be sure,' I said, 'that
the Gods to whom I pray will abide at all?' This I thought, and the
_Rewah_ dropped her nose as a hammer falls, and all the sea came in
and slid