*1 



creeks and dongas yet each master of man and his 

 work 1 How many of them are needed to make a real 

 flood! 



There are few things more deceptive than the 

 tropical storm. To one caught in it, all the world 

 seems deluged and overwhelmed ; yet a mile away 

 it may be all peace and sunshine. I looked at the 

 river and laughed at myself ! The revelation seemed 

 complete ; it was humiliating ; one felt so small. 

 Still, the drought was broken ; the rains had come ; 

 and in spite of disappointment I stayed to watch, 

 drawn by the scores of little things caught up and 

 carried by the first harvest garnered by the rains. 



A quarter of an hour or more may have been spent 

 thus, when amid all the chorus of the rushing waters 

 there stole in a duller murmur. Murmur it was at 

 first, but it grew steadily into a low-toned, monotoned, 

 distant roar ; and it caught and held one like the roar 

 of coming hail or hurricane. It was the river coming 

 down. 



The sun was out again, and in the straight reach 

 above the bend there was every chance to watch the 

 flood from the bank where I stood. It seemed strangely 

 long in coming, but come it did at last, in waves like 

 the half-spent breakers on a sandy beach a slope of 

 foam and broken waters in the van, an ugly wall with 

 spray-tipped feathered crest behind, and tier on tier 

 to follow. Heavens, what a scene ! The force of 

 waters, and the utter hopeless puniness of man ! The 

 racing waves, each dashing for the foremost place, 

 only to force the further on ; the tall reeds caught 

 427 



