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Srikanta 'Well, no,' I answered.

'That's right,' said Indra, much pleased. 'What is there to fear if you know how to swim?'

A suppressed gasp was my only reply. My uninformed mind could see no difference between swimming on such a night in the midst of those mad currents and swift-flowing tides, and a total inability to swim. But Indra did not utter another word.

After a long time I heard a new sound, muffled and faint; it grew clearer and louder as our canoe proceeded further onward. It sounded like an angry and threatening call, uttered from many throats at a long distance, and wafted across many barriers and impediments. Though heavy with weariness, the sound was incessant, without a break; the anger of those unseen presences did not appear to abate or to increase, and showed no signs of ever coming to an end. At irregular intervals came sounds suggestive of a sudden crash or abrupt splash. 'What sound is that, Indra?' I asked 'It is the sound of the sandy bank opposite being broken off by the currents,' he replied as he again set the prow of the canoe in the direction towards which he was steering.

'How high is the bank?' I asked, 'and what is the force of the currents?'

'Oh, tremendous. The water is black: we can't pass under the bank to-night. If it should break above us we and the canoe would be smashed to smithereens. Can you row, Srikanta?'

'Oh, yes, I can.'

'Then row.'