, and cumbered the raft with a writhing mass.
Numberless crocodiles bounded into the air, braying, snorting, rending
one another and churning the river into froth by their hideous battle.
Dwellers of the deep water drifted into the upper tide--monsters of the
muck at the Nile bottom, turtles, huge crawfish, water-newts, spotted
snakes, curious bleached creatures that had never seen the day, great
drifts of insects, with frogs, tadpoles--everything of aquatic animate
life, came up dead or dying terribly. Along either bank water-buffalo
and wallowing swine, which had been in the pools near the river,
clambered ponderously, snorting at every step.

Vessels were putting about and flying for the shore. From the prow of
one tall boat, with distended sails, a figure was seen to spring high
and disappear under the red torrent. Rioting crews of river-men fought
for first landing at the accessible places on the banks. Memphis
shrieked and the pastures became compounds of wild beasts that deafened
heaven with their savage bellowing.

Pepi and Nari had no thought of saving themselves. It was Masanath who
must save them. They clung to her, dragging her down with their arms
when she attempted to rise. Bereft of reason, they made the liquid
echoes of the river ring with wild cries of mortal terror.

Masanath had sufficient instinct left to urge her to fly. With a
mighty effort she shook off her servants and sprang to the sweep.
Instantly they made to follow her, but she threatened them with a
hunting-stick. The combined weight of the three in the stern would
have swamped the frail boat.

Seizing the sweep she poled with superhuman strength toward the nearest
shore--the Marsh of the Discontented Soul. If she remembered the
spirit, she forgot her fear of it. Any terror was acceptable other
than isolation on this mile-wide torrent of blood.

The raft grounded, and as a viscous wash of red lapped across it, she
leaped forth, landing with both feet in the horror. She floundered out
and crying to her servants to follow her, fled like a mad thing up the
sandy stretch toward the distant wall of rock.

The boat, lightened of her weight, received a backward thrust as she
leaped, and drifted out of the reeds. The heavy current caught it and
swept it across the smitten river to the Memphian shore. It bore two
insensible figures.

Masanath ran, thinking only to leave the ghastly flood behind. Her wet
over-dress flapped about