The sun beat fiercely down on the bed of the river, now dry save for streamlets meandering¹ among the boulders², and encircling patches of sand that were dotted with birds of the long-shanked, long-billed brotherhood³. It seemed hard to believe that a few weeks hence this arid⁴, stone-strewn area would be swept by a mighty⁵, tempestuous⁶ flood, rushing down from the hills in a volume so vast that nothing could stem its advance. Now the boulders shone round and smooth, and blinding white in the midday heat. They might have been cannon⁷ balls hurled⁸ by some Titan race in the ages past from the amphitheatre of hills at some foe⁹ in the valley beneath. The islets of sand sparkled like gold; indeed, gold dust was known to be mixed with their grains, though as yet whence it came was a secret no man had discovered; at least, if he had, the secret was kept by enchantment¹⁰. There were stories of venturesome pilgrims, returning from far-away shrines¹¹ in the mountains, found dead by the road that led back to the world, with
[pg 164]
nuggets of gold on their persons; no one had lived to return to the spot where he found them.
The straggling line of elephants, lurching in leisurely¹² progress across the bed of the river, showed like black

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