ied in the building that 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 the 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 bridgeline.

"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
peopul--"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 ehwah--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 tonight"--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 bowanchor,
and the Rewah rose high and high, leaning towards the lefthand 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 s