The boat, a tiny speck on the surface of chaos, darted and checked and swerved lightly at the imperious bidding of unguessed forces, reaching up from the depths to pluck at it in elfish sportiveness.  Only when Ban thrust down the oar-blades, as he did now and again to direct their course or avoid some obstacle, was Io made sensible, through the jar and tremor of the whole structure, how swiftly they moved.  She felt the spirit of the great motion, of which they were a minutely inconsiderable part, enter into her soul.  She was inspired of it, freed, elated, glorified.  She lifted up her voice and sang.  Ban, turning, gave her one quick look of comprehension, then once more was intent and watchful of their master and servitor, the flood.

“Ban,” she called.

He tossed an oar to indicate that he had heard.

“Come back and sit by me.”

He seemed to hesitate.

“Let the boat go where it wants to!  The river will take care of us.  It’s a good river, and so strong!  I think it loves to have us here.”

Ban shook his head.

“‘Let the great river bear us to the sea,’” sang Io in her fresh and thrilling voice, stirring the uttermost fibers of his being with delight.  “Ban, can’t you trust the river and the night and—­and the mad gods?  I can.”

Again he shook his head.  In his attitude she sensed a new concentration upon something ahead.  She became aware of a strange stir that was not of the air nor the water.

“Hush—­sh—­sh—­sh—­sh!” said something unseen, with an immense effect of restraint and enforced quiet.

The boat slewed sharply as Banneker checked their progress with a downthrust of oars.  He edged in toward the farther bank which was quite flat, studying it with an eye to the most favoring spot, having selected which, he ran the stern up with several hard shoves, leapt out, hauled the body of the craft free from the balked and snatching current, and held out a hand to his passenger.

“What is it?” she asked as she joined him.

“I don’t know.  I’m trying to think where I’ve heard that noise before.”  He pondered.  “Ah, I’ve got it!  It was when I was out on the coast in the big rains, and a few million tons of river-bank let go all holds and smushed down into the stream....  What’s on your map?”

He bent over it, conning its detail by the light of the flash which she turned on.

“We should be about here,” he indicated, touching the paper, “I’ll go ahead and take a look.”

“Shan’t I go with you?”

“Better stay quiet and get all the rest you can.”

He was gone some twenty minutes.  “There’s a big, fresh-looking split-off in the opposite bank,” he reported; “and the water looks fizzy and whirly around there.  I think we’ll give her a little time to settle.  A sudden shift underneath might suck us down.  The water’s rising every minute, which makes it worth while waiting.  Besides, it’s dark just now.”