The hungry river, like an enormous serpent, swallowed down
terraces, villages, cornfields, and covered with its flood the tall
grasses and wild casuarinas on the sand-banks. From time to time there
was a deep thud, as the river-banks crumbled. The unceasing roar of the
rain current could be beard from far away. Masses of foam, carried
swiftly past, proved to the eye the swiftness of the stream.
One afternoon the rain cleared. It was cloudy, but cool and bright.
Raicharan's little despot did not want to stay in on such a fine
afternoon. His lordship climbed into the go-cart. Raicharan, between
the shafts, dragged him slowly along till he reached the rice-fields on
the banks of the river. There was no one in the fields, and no boat on
the stream. Across the water, on the farther side, the clouds were
rifted in the west. The silent ceremonial of the setting sun was
revealed in all its glowing splendour. In the midst of that stillness
the child, all of a sudden, pointed with his finger in front of him and
cried: "Chan-nal Pitty fow.
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