lessly over the high back
of his seat.

"Must cross the river. Water less quick over there," said Ali.

He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his body
recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered himself just in
time into the squatting attitude of a monkey perched on a high shelf,
and shouted: "Dayong!"

The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward and went
on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion made up of its own
speed and the downward drift of the current.

Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman shook her hand at him, and
then squatted at the feet of the man who stood motionless. After a while
she got up and stood beside him, reaching up to his head--and Lingard
saw then that she had wetted some part of her covering and was trying to
wash the dried blood off the man's immovable face, which did not seem
to know anything about it. Lingard turned away and threw himself back in
his chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh of fatigue. His head
fell forward; and under his red face the white beard lay fan-like on his
breast, the ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint draught
made by the rapid motion of the craft that carried him away from his
prisoner--from the only thing in his life he wished to hide.

In its course across the river the canoe came into the line of Willems'
sight and his eyes caught the image, followed it eagerly as it glided,
small but distinct, on the dark background of the forest. He could see
plainly the figure of the man sitting in the middle. All his life he had
felt that man behind his back, a reassuring presence ready with help,
with commendation, with advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic
in approbation; a man inspiring confidence by his strength, by his
fearlessness, by the very weakness of his simple heart. And now that man
was going away. He must call him back.

He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to throw across the river,
seemed to fall helplessly at his feet. Aissa put her hand on his arm in
a restraining attempt, but he shook it off. He wanted to call back his
very life that was going away from him. He shouted again--and this time
he did not even hear himself. No use. He would never return. And he
stood in sullen silence looking at the white figure over there, lying
back in the chair in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck him
suddenly as very terrible, heartless and astonishing, with its u