nothing existed then outside the gunwales of
the narrow and fragile craft. It was their world, filled with their
intense and all-absorbing love. They took no heed of thickening mist, or
of the breeze dying away before sunrise; they forgot the existence of the
great forests surrounding them, of all the tropical nature awaiting the
advent of the sun in a solemn and impressive silence.

Over the low river-mist hiding the boat with its freight of young
passionate life and all-forgetful happiness, the stars paled, and a
silvery-grey tint crept over the sky from the eastward. There was not a
breath of wind, not a rustle of stirring leaf, not a splash of leaping
fish to disturb the serene repose of all living things on the banks of
the great river. Earth, river, and sky were wrapped up in a deep sleep,
from which it seemed there would be no waking. All the seething life and
movement of tropical nature seemed concentrated in the ardent eyes, in
the tumultuously beating hearts of the two beings drifting in the canoe,
under the white canopy of mist, over the smooth surface of the river.

Suddenly a great sheaf of yellow rays shot upwards from behind the black
curtain of trees lining the banks of the Pantai. The stars went out; the
little black clouds at the zenith glowed for a moment with crimson tints,
and the thick mist, stirred by the gentle breeze, the sigh of waking
nature, whirled round and broke into fantastically torn pieces,
disclosing the wrinkled surface of the river sparkling in the broad light
of day. Great flocks of white birds wheeled screaming above the swaying
tree-tops. The sun had risen on the east coast.

Dain was the first to return to the cares of everyday life. He rose and
glanced rapidly up and down the river. His eye detected Babalatchi's
boat astern, and another small black speck on the glittering water, which
was Taminah's canoe. He moved cautiously forward, and, kneeling, took up
a paddle; Nina at the stern took hers. They bent their bodies to the
work, throwing up the water at every stroke, and the small craft went
swiftly ahead, leaving a narrow wake fringed with a lace-like border of
white and gleaming foam. Without turning his head, Dain spoke.

"Somebody behind us, Nina. We must not let him gain. I think he is too
far to recognise us."

"Somebody before us also," panted out Nina, without ceasing to paddle.

"I think I know," rejoined Dain. "The sun shines over there, but I fanc