e river, too, is still rising, and this wind will increase."

The rising river did not alarm us in the least, but the matter of being
left high and dry by a sudden subsidence of the waters might be serious,
and we had consequently laid in an extra stock of provisions. For the rest,
the officer's prophecy held true, and the wind, blowing down a perfectly
clear sky, increased steadily till it reached the dignity of a westerly
gale.

It was earlier than usual when we camped, for the sun was a good hour or
two from the horizon, and leaving my friend still asleep on the hot sand, I
wandered about in desultory examination of our hotel. The island, I found,
was less than an acre in extent, a mere sandy bank standing some two or
three feet above the level of the river. The far end, pointing into the
sunset, was covered with flying spray which the tremendous wind drove off
the crests of the broken waves. It was triangular in shape, with the apex
up stream.

I stood there for several minutes, watching the impetuous crimson flood
bearing down with a shouting roar, dashing in waves against the bank as
though to sweep it bodily away, and then swirling by in two foaming streams
on either side. The ground seemed to shake with the shock and rush, while
the furious movement of the willow bushes as the wind poured over them
increased the curious illusion that the island itself actually moved.
Above, for a mile or two, I could see the great river descending upon me;
it was like looking up the slope of a sliding hill, white with foam, and
leaping up everywhere to show itself to the sun.

The rest of the island was too thickly grown with willows to make walking
pleasant, but I made the tour, nevertheless. From the lower end the light,
of course, changed, and the river looked dark and angry. Only the backs of
the flying waves were visible, streaked with foam, and pushed forcibly by
the great puffs of wind that fell upon them from behind. For a short mile
it was visible, pouring in and out among the islands, and then disappearing
with a huge sweep into the willows, which closed about it like a herd of
monstrous antediluvian creatures crowding down to drink. They made me think
of gigantic sponge-like growths that sucked the river up into themselves.
They caused it to vanish from sight. They herded there together in such
overpowering numbers.

Altogether it was an impressive scene, with its utter loneliness, its
bizarre suggestion; and as I