ot know the truth. He has been lied to from the
cradle; taught a set of catchwords, a set of wise saws, a set of moral
rules, logarithms by which the equation of life could be worked out, all
arbitrary, and many grossly erroneous. He is led to believe that his
father or the schoolmaster has grasped the scheme of human life and can
explain it to him.

The nurse says it will come out all right, as though the Unforeseen
could be determined by a secret in her possession. He is satisfied that
these wise ones know. Then he meets the eternal forces, an event
threatens, he marshals his catchwords, his wise saws, his moral rules,
and they fail him. He retires, beaten, as the magicians of Egypt retired
before God.

His father or the nurse or the schoolmaster explains with some
outlandish fairy story, shifts the catchword or the saw or the rule, as
a physician shifts the prescription of a consumptive, and returns him to
the tremendous Reality. Again he spreads his hands and cries the sacred
formula, the eternal forces advance, he stands fast and is flung
bleeding to the wall, or he flees. Afraid, hidden in some cranny of the
rocks, nursing his hurt, the child begins to see the truth. This passing
from the world as it should be to the world as it is nearly kills him.
It is like the riving of timber.

Presently I heard Jud speak to me from behind El Mahdi. The full strong
voice of the man was like a dash of cold water in the face. I sat up; he
bade me join Ump and himself to discuss what should be done, then turned
around and went back to the house.

I slipped down from El Mahdi, washed my face in the river, and wiped it
dry on my sleeve. Then I climbed into the saddle and rode back to where
the little group stood before the door.

There were Ump and Jud, the two ferrymen, and their ancient mother.
Danel was describing the catastrophe in a low voice, as one might
describe the last illness of a man whose corpse was waiting in his house
for burial.

"We set Twiggs over pretty late. Then there wasn't anybody else. So we
tied up the boat an' went to bed. Mother sleeps by the fire. Mother has
rheumatiz so she don't sleep very sound. About midnight she called me.
She was sitting up in the bed with a shawl around her. 'Danel,' she
said, 'there's something lumbering around the boat. Hadn't you better
slip down an' see about it?' I told mother I reckoned it was a swimmin'
tree. Sometimes they hit against the boat when they go down. Th