the storm burst in the middle of the night. a rush of wind came with a high call out of the south and tore at the hessian walls of surprise with multitudinous fingers. it fell with upraised voice upon the timbered country of pelican pool and swung together the heads of the trees. it leapt in rage upon the staunch homestead of kaloona so that the timbers groaned beneath the buffet. there blazed through the dark a sheet of light and the ghost of day stood an instant naked and trembling. there sounded a roar of thunder. and at once the sky was torn from end to end to let down the rains.

the waters struck the iron roofs of surprise and kaloona with the shock of a cataract. they flogged the bleached walls of the tents. they lashed the ground, tearing the small stones from the soil. ever and again lightning ripped in shreds the dark and thunder pealed in the skies. the wind came and went in giant claps.[pg 297] the minutes wore out without any wearying of this rage.

a sheet of water crept about the face of the country, exploring and claiming the hollows of the land. tiny torrents tumbled wherever the ground was broken. dry creeks woke to life and swept upon the journey to the river. the grasses were beaten to the ground. the saplings cowered and wrung their limbs. and ever new lightnings tore the dark in pieces, and thunders cracked in the skies; even the voices of drumming waters called in the dark in answer to the shouting of the wind.

the storm thrust a way into the tenderer places of surprise. it pushed through the patches in the canvas roofs, and crept through the crevices of the walls, streaming across the floors while mrs. boulder, mrs. niven and mrs. bloxham, wakened from sleep, peered upon it from their beds.

said mrs. boulder, putting forth a heavy hand for the matches and nudging boulder awake. "stow that, man, and get to it. there's something doing, i reckon."

mrs. niven, striking a match upon like scene, lifted up dolorous voice. "are you never goin' to raise a finger to help me, but'll stay snorin' there till the place falls in atop of us? there[pg 298] won't be a dry inch in another half hour, an' not two sticks of wood chopped, i've no doubt."

over all the camp dismal lights flicker up behind the walls where bullock, bloxham and johnson pass barefooted upon their errands.

at kaloona the storm lasted through the hours of dark. the rain roared up and down the iron roofs. the lightning flamed outside the windows. the thunder bellowed in the sky. ever and anon a hurricane of wind clapped hold of the house and shook it, or for an instant the roar of rain died, as though a sudden giant hand had plucked away the heavens. as each blaze of lightning wrenched the landscape from the dark, power from his standing place by the window, and mrs. elliott and maggie from the security of bed, looked upon a country over which crept a wide reach of water.

power was considering bed when the storm began and set him thinking of other things. he lit a pipe and stood before the window spectator of events. he stood for a long time without turning round, but left his post presently, picked up the lamp from the table and made the way down a passage. he stopped before a door and hammered upon it until it opened. by the light of the lamp mrs. elliott was discovered confronting him, more ample than ever in her wide[pg 299] nightgown. he shouted at her above the cry of the rain.

"how are you doing in there? nothing coming through yet?"

"o.k. to date, mr. power. don't you worry for us. it looks as though the whole place'll bust and go up in a cloud of smoke, don't it?" mrs. elliott beamed upon him.

"i'm just round the corner. call me if you want me." he nodded good-night and the door shut. back in the sitting-room he put the lamp on the table and took a stand once more by the window.

he gave up all thoughts of bed. the cries of the storm and the lights blazing through the window keyed up his nerves. he became full of fancies of which molly gregory was the beginning and the end. he reproached himself for not remaining until the others came back. in the face of this tumult it seemed a brutal thing to have left the child alone. but now the others would be back, and his fancies did no good. once more repenting the event!

then his thoughts made their way to surprise. was his punishment coming to an end? if he went back and asked forgiveness, would he be forgiven? molly had told him yes. he had no right to hope for such a thing, yet maud knew now he loved her. and in truth he loved her as he had not known how to love a woman a little while ago—loving her body, because it was her body; but counting it of small value beside the spirit. hope was coming back to him to-night with the reviving influence of a cool wind searching the forehead of a castaway in a desert place.

the door by the verandah steps swung wide open. the storm swept inside the house in a greedy gust. the curtains at the windows were caught up in the air. the light leapt up the chimney of the lamp and went out. he was in the dark. he ran across and pushed the door to. it buffeted him on the shoulder. a glare of lightning lit up the house. he bolted the door, came back and lit the lamp, and wiped the rain off his face.

the endurance of this storm was remarkable. commonly the rain was spent within an hour and a lull came. if this did not abate the river would be coming down. they were safe up here on the rise, but it was another matter with the hut on pelican pool. every few years there came a flood which covered all that country. surely gregory could look after himself. he was a bushman even if he was a fool. what was he—power—worrying about? he was depressed because he was damp and circulation went down at this time and the jumping light[pg 301] thrown by the lamp would give any man the blues.

finally, while power stood there at odds with himself, the storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun.

the hush following on the heels of the tumult brought him abruptly out of his thoughts. he left the room, pushed open the wire door, and stood upon the verandah steps. the sky was covered with clouds over all its face, causing the night to be pitch dark. the air was very cool. a light wind felt the way hither and thither among the nodding boughs of the saplings; and in all places were countless small voices of dripping waters.

a frog croaked from the direction of the river. a frog replied to it. there followed several croaks, then many croaks. presently in tens, presently in scores, presently in hundreds were raised the voices of the frogs. the chorus rose up everywhere. a-rrr! a-rrr! mo-rrr-e! mo-rrr-e! more water! more water! more water! then the thunder began again in the south, and the lightning leapt across the dark. the second storm rolled out of the horizon and broke upon the land.

later on power found the way to bed; but he slept badly and quite soon it seemed to be morning.

kaloona household woke up to a cheerless day. in a lull between the storms light crept into the sky. power from his window, mrs. elliott and maggie from the kitchen, stared upon a strange country. heaven was choked with frowning clouds looking down upon a broken land. pools of water filled the depressions. the higher country was beaten and furrowed. many boughs had been torn from the timber by the river. the saplings bent piteously before the morning wind. moisture dripped from the leaves down and down until it reached the ground. in all places tiny streams trickled about the country. a thousand small voices of dropping waters murmured in open and hidden places. louder than the voices of the waters rose the concert of the frogs.

"meg," said mrs. elliott, coming into the damp kitchen first thing, "we'll be drowned yet, mark me, before this is done."

"it don't look too good," said maggie.

"it don't. there's worse to come," went on mrs. elliott, taking a look into the wood box. "what's more, there wouldn't have been a dry stick in the house if that horrid little man had had his way. i don't know what the boss keeps him for."

"the boss himself is got pretty cranky," said maggie. "it's time he took a pull on himself."

"it is, meg."

the storms pursued each other from dawn to the middle of the day. in the space of moments the sky would blacken, thunder would peal out and a flare of lightning split the heavens. the rain would drum again on the iron roofs. there fell lulls when power idled on the verandah looking over the country; but towards noon, when the sky was clear for a space, he picked the way to the stables. the ground was filled with pools of water, and the higher land was a morass. there was a bitterness in the air that persuaded him to keep hands in his pockets. he felt dispirited and on edge.

when he pushed open the stable door scandalous jack was fussing round the stalls. the big black horse was in a box, and near it a chestnut horse of o'neill's. scandalous jack stopped working with great readiness and shouted salutations of the day.

"marnin', gov'nor, and a bad one at that! i reckon we'll be carrying our swags to surprise this time to-morrow if things don't take a pull. yer see i kept these two inside. they'll do better in than out, and it will be a fool's game running horses for a bit! the black feller don't look bad, do he?"

"he's pretty well," said power, looking the black horse over.

"he's that!" shouted scandalous, "and i was the man to do it. the lip that woman gives at the house would make you think there was nothing to do but run after her. i'll let her have it one day—her, and the gel too, hot and strong."

"then you are a braver man than i am, scandalous," power said, moving on. "keep the horses in. they may be wanted."

o'neill kicked his heels in the yards at the back of the stables, pipe in mouth and an expression on his face to match the day. power nodded.

"pretty heavy fall," he said. "the river will be down by evening—and pretty big too."

o'neill shook his head. "do you reckon they are all right at the pool? there's times the water fills that channel behind them, you know."

"they are right enough if gregory knows his business. i've a mind to go across in the afternoon if the weather lifts."

power glanced overhead. another storm was spreading across the sky. he started to return to the house. the day was quickly darkening and the prospect looked dismal beyond contemplation. half-a-dozen unoccupied people loitered in sight, and the single patch of colour was where the gins in brilliant rags smoked in the doorway of their hut. he[pg 305] went indoors with the hump. maggie was laying lunch in the dining-room. "twelve o'clock?" he asked.

maggie went out of the room. he fell into contemplation by the window until mrs. elliott bustled in on a household errand and brought him to his senses.

"don't moon about like that," she cried at sight of him. "get some work to do."

"find it for me," he said, turning towards her.

mrs. elliott confronted him in battle array. "mr. power, it's time you took a hold on yourself. this running to and fro every night in the dark isn't no good to you nor to miss neville, nor to me for that matter. you'll make a mess o' things soon and i'm old enough to be your mother."

"perhaps the mess is made."

"now, mr. power, i'm talking straight. things won't be too mixed to put right if you start now. all men are the same and i know a deal about them. they can get themselves boxed up as easy as sheep in a yard, but they are not so quick at the untangling." mrs. elliott came closer and grew confidential. she lifted a fat finger. "and i'll tell you something more, mr. power. all gels are much of a kind too. you may have a split with them, but if you go[pg 306] back and drop the soft word into their ears you can get them kind again."

maggie came in with the dishes, and a moment after the storm burst above the house.

the women went out of the room and he began a solitary meal. the rain flogged the iron roof. presently maggie appeared to change the dishes and afterwards he was sitting before the finished meal listening to the tumult and feeling too out of temper to light a pipe. on one thing his mind was made up. he would ride to the pool in the afternoon if he was washed off the road in the attempt. the river would come down in the evening. the family must be brought back and the world could wag its tongue. he was getting the blues for ever debating on the child's safety.

without warning the rain was snatched back into the sky. the sudden silence confounded him. then he threw back his head. far away rose the voice of tremendous waters. one deep note without rise or fall was being played. he listened with all his might. he could not be mistaken. the river had come down.

he pushed back his chair and got to his feet. the verandah was a few steps away. the storm was hurrying out of the sky and the day had brightened once more. all over the country arose again the gentle melodious cries of [pg 307]dripping waters. he leant on the rail by the verandah steps. now the thunder of the river was distinct, and among the trees he saw here and there widening sheets of water. he had not made a mistake.

his depression left him in a moment. he began to think very quickly. the river must have reached the pool two hours ago. he had never known such a sudden flood. by this time the water would be all over that low country. the gregorys would be without a home. what if the fellow had proved a fool and taken risks? he must satisfy himself. he must go without delay.

he went inside again. he found his spurs and pulled on an oilskin. mrs. elliott came running down the passage.

"the river is down, mr. power. a regular old man flood."

he answered walking past her. "i heard it. i shall be away in a minute. i may bring back those people on the river. you had better have something ready."

"don't dare bring 'em inside the place!" cried mrs. elliott, but the door was shut on her words.

as power left the house a man on horseback was coming through the gate of the homestead paddock. the horse had been pushed to the[pg 308] limit of its strength. it breathed with sobs and trembled as it walked. the rider rolled in the saddle. man and beast were plastered with a coat of mud. it covered them from the crown of the man's hat to the hoofs of the horse. then the rider spat clear his mouth and called out. it was gregory.

"the river has come down! the gel is drowned!"

power felt a sudden rage seize him by the throat; but he answered in a level voice. "what's that you say?"

"the river's down. the gel's drowned!"

"what were you doing?"

"i was at surprise with the missus. we was on a bit of a spree. we wasn't back last night. i rode down an hour since. the river was down then and the hut going to bits. the water had come round the back of the place. there wasn't a sign of the gel. she'd have tried to cross and got washed away. aw, gawd, what's to be done?"

"get out of the way!" power said. he moved towards the stables at a walk that was becoming a run. scandalous jack bobbed about the doorway. "saddle my horse!" he called out.

scandalous threw up his head in surprise. "you're not mad enough to——?"

"saddle that horse!" he shouted. scandalous bobbed inside.

power began to call out for o'neill. the man came out of the doorway of his hut. with common consent they ran towards each other. "gregory is here. the child is drowned!" the two men began to run faster and towards the stable. "we might be in time. i am going now."

scandalous was coming out of the stable door with the black horse. it threw its head this way and that, snorting loudly. scandalous, very full of respect, nursed his corns. power took the reins. o'neill was running for a saddle.

"scandalous, listen to me. the river has come down at pelican pool. there's been an accident. gregory's girl may be drowned. i'm going there now. send jackie after the buggy horses. you must bring the buggy as fast as you can. bring anything useful. bring some rope. bring blankets. bring whisky. find jackie now. jackie!"

he gathered the reins in one hand and put the other on the saddle. the wind arrived and blew his oilskin into the air. the black horse sent a blast from its nostrils and reared high; but as it came to ground he was gaining the saddle. he picked up the stirrups and drew the reins together. the wind was in his face. far away,[pg 310] but loud, sounded the roar of the river. the beast beneath him reefed at the reins. the small paddock was covered in a score of bounds. he found he must use both hands to check the animal. pools of water splashed under them and the mud sucked at its hoofs. clods of earth leapt upon his back. the gate demanded a halt. he pushed open the gate with his foot.

the pool was distant only a few miles; but travelling was so bad he dared not force the pace. he left the gate wide open, and turned towards the river. he took the reins in both hands. he bent his head a little. a stream of lightning flooded the sky. a rush of wind hit him a buffet in the face. the day began to darken. he felt the animal's mouth with firm hands. it answered the signal.

it plunged away, leaning hard on his hands. it was the most powerful beast he rode, yet he hesitated to give it head. he knew the spur must be used before the end of the journey. the country was a bog. sheets of shallow water covered the plain. it was a struggle to win a foot of the rough ground. they rode for a spill. every yard of travelling splashed him to the top of his head. on the higher ground, uncovered by the water, clouts of mud struck him behind.

the day had turned black. lightning poured out of the clouds. thunder stamped upon the sky until it trembled. here and here a starved sapling stood up in the water. there and there a broken tuft of spinifex lifted up its sodden spikes. he looked once over his shoulder to see o'neill labouring half-a-mile behind. a second rush of wind, fiercer than the first, beat him in the face. the new storm was about to break.

he wondered what he was thinking of, and he found he was not thinking. instead, he was filled with a grievous sense of tragedy. he was late. once more he was late. he had left her alone to die.

in the teeth of better judgment he tightened the reins and signalled greater speed. a blaze of lightning tore the sky in half; the thunder shattered overhead and the rains rushed out of the sky. he thought the shock had thrown the beast off its feet. it propped on the instant and swung around. good luck and skill held him in the saddle. he strove to turn it around, but it would not answer him. his nerves were worn raw and his temper got the better of wisdom. he fell upon it with whip and spur.

it came round at last and began to thrust sideways through the downpour. the rains scourged them. the water leapt from his shoulders back into his face. the landscape was[pg 312] blotted out. in an instant the lower half of him was wet through. he could not see. he could hear nothing but the rain. he felt the suck and draw of the animal's hoofs as it rolled along. again and again the lightning thrust its arms about the sky. he rode through the rain-burst for a very long time. without warning he passed out on the other side. the rain stopped, the storm rolled behind him, the day grew bright again.

he had covered most of the journey. the river was a mile away, but his horse was done. he himself felt dazed and his clothes held him with clammy fingers. the passing of the storm had left the world very still. he rubbed the water from his eyes. someone was ahead of him. a buggy advanced to the edge of the timbered country. it contained only the driver, who was crouched over the reins. he thought he recognised king.

something farther away than king arrested his vision. half of the journey had been made across a sheet of shallow water; but over there, where the higher trees began, the water eddied and tossed, betraying the edge of the river. he looked on the highest flood in his memory. the timber concealed the great body of water; but far away on the other side of the trees climbed the flood. a deep note came across to him; the[pg 313] voice of the river hurrying to its marriage with the sea.

he did not remember finishing the journey. he bullied a spent horse the rest of the way. after a long time they reached the edge of the timber where a minute or two before the buggy had come to a halt.

he pulled up the horse beside the buggy. mr. king had got down and was standing in the water. they did not trouble to greet each other, and he thought king looked out of his mind. they stood on the edge of the flood waters. half-a-mile away the body of the river roared on its journey. in the intervening space the trees stood out of the sluggish water shaking their damaged boughs in the wind. the shaded ways, the quiet places had gone; there was no sign of pelican pool.

his breath came back, and with his breath returned his presence of mind. he forgot the man beside him and stared over the ears of the horse. one by one old landmarks were picked up, and at last his eye found the wreckage of the hut. it was a third of the way across the river. the main body of water swept beyond it, but an arm of the river had come in this way. horror laid a hand upon his heart.

a terrible cry rang out beside him. "my princess! my princess!" mr. king was [pg 314]looking at the hut. of a sudden he began running towards it. he ran stumbling a long way and stopped only when the water reached his knees. he threw his arms before him and cried again in the terrible voice: "my princess! my princess!" the roar of the river came back in answer.

power touched the horse with his heel and it began to walk forward through the water. as the depth increased, the beast snorted and threw about its head. they had advanced a little way, when o'neill overtook them, and the two men moved side by side towards the broken water.

power believed now molly gregory was dead. the child had sat all night in the hut after he had left her listening to the storms breaking outside. no doubt she had been filled with fancies which had mocked at sleep. to-day she had watched the water climbing towards her door with greedy lips. she had fled at last in panic to the land, and the blundering river had seized her in its arms.

he believed she was dead, and here he sat on horseback guiding the beast forward, holding it tight when it stumbled, avoiding the driftwood, and bending his head beneath limbs of trees. she was dead and he moved forward towards the body of the river, while the gentle waves of[pg 315] this back channel crept up the legs of his horse so that now they licked its belly. he did this calmly and with a cool brain. was he over quick at forgetting, or had too much sorrow defeated itself, as one pain is cured by another?

she was dead, but the three men that had loved her were still condemned to use the eyes that had looked upon her, to employ the arms that had supported her, to move the lips that had been pressed by her kisses.

there came an end to the advance. a stone's throw beyond the halting place began the current. the river swept on its journey with a high tremendous cry. far among the timber on the other bank brown currents surged and boiled. trunks of trees whirled down from distant forests; rubbish from a hundred places hurried out of sight. the lesser trees danced their leaves upon the waves. like a barbarous giant the river thundered to the sea.

somewhere in that yeast of waters the child's fair body hurried away. from the tumult of the river it was passing to the amorous embraces of a coral sea. the scarlet lips where so many men had left their kisses would be caressed anew by the gentle lips of an ocean. by day and by night that slender form would float on its final journey, peering into the mouths of solemn caverns, stroked by the tresses of love-sick[pg 316] weeds, secure from the greedy suns staring hungrily through the blue roof, and followed by the curious moon as she looked to see what radiant thing took its walk by dark along the ocean bed.

the brilliant fishes would arrive to peer at this rare thing, the loathsome octopus beneath his ledge of rock would hide his shame behind a sepia curtain, and presently the brown pearl-fisher, descending from his bobbing barque, would halt in wonder at a pearl larger and more lustrous than all his toils had brought him.

where had fled the little soul? perhaps as a tiny jewelled bird already it fluttered through celestial fields, quick and charming and bright, but a thing of small account. in that new country where sight was keener, it would not again be priced above its worth.

the flow and hurry of the river was drugging power's mind. he broke the spell by a jerk of the head, and looking behind him saw king not very far away deep in the water. king was suddenly an old man. power turned to the horseman beside him. o'neill stared at the broken hut. his head was thrust forward, and he sat huddled in the saddle. the water had climbed to the saddle-flap, and the ends of his oilskin played with the waves. he began to speak at that moment.

"i reckon i'd have a chance of getting across. i could go higher up and beat the pull of the current."

"you wouldn't," power said. "and no use if you could. she isn't there. we shan't see her again."

"gawd! i must go across! i can't stay here!"

"it will do no good, mick. she has escaped us."

power drew his horse beside the other man, for the clamour of the river made speech difficult. he began to speak more intimately than ever he remembered doing.

"once i loved her in a way it will be hard to love anyone else. then passion seemed to go away—somewhere, i don't know where; but she taught me so much i shall never be out of her debt. she has made me look on life with new eyes.

"i have something to tell you. i was down here last night before the rain began. she had been alone all day, and she was quite strange—so serious. we talked about a lot of things, and i asked her which of us three she loved. she said it was you. the three of us fought over her, and in the middle she slipped away and it seems we have lost her; but because she loved you, she left you her best behind.

"we must go back and get dry. there is nothing else to do. to-morrow, if the storms keep away, we can look for her lower down; but we won't find her. just now the world seems to have come to an end. things will be straighter in a bit, and we'll find there is something to be got out of this. to reach for a thing and to get it may be good enough, but a man grows quicker by stretching for the thing beyond his hand. we shall always remember her as a fairy thing out of reach, and looking for her to come again will help a fellow to growl less in the summer, give him more patience to teach his dog manners, hurry him through the day's work. come, we must get back."

power brought his horse about. he heard o'neill splash behind him. he went across to king, and king turned up a haggard face.

"we must get back. there is nothing to do."

the three men began to splash towards the land. two more buggies had arrived on the bank. scandalous jack was getting down from one, and the other was drawn by the white buggy horses of surprise. the old man sat in the driver's seat and beside him was maud neville. power met her glance across the distance. the three men reached the bank.