still without altering rhythm, I would find him swimming under me; a broad spearhead wake following us across the noisy, glittering, blue and white currents. Once there came a disturbance: I thought we were approaching one of those periodic whirlpools which had suddenly appeared before us; but it was approaching us, and presently the head slid up out at us. It came at us, longer than Urns’ own, and grinning with ruthless conceit. I thought, “What can be done? Urns is not in his element, smaller than this thing, and hampered by me.”

This was a river-snake, an amphibian with a long, glaucous body merging into tail (competently thrashing water) and covered, I now saw, with a starring of yellow warts. These constellations nestled in the wrinkles of a skin which must be far too thick even for Urns’ beak to pierce easily—and the beak it would have to be, for his claws were underwater. He continued to swim towards the reptile which continued to bear down on us. It took no notice of me, except that there may have been slight amusement and contempt in the huge, gold-speckled, oval eyes fixed on Urns. Here was a creature which allowed men to ride it! Its long snout writhed, revealing diseased gums edged with bone, a single, circular tooth. A sort of ululating shriek of anticipated triumph echoed over the river; Urns made no sound but continued straight at the onslaught, lifted and thrust his neck, sank his beak between those two eyes which went glassy amazed and offended—there was a blood-spout—Urns uttered several barks, started a wide detour just in time to avoid even the first of the convulsions as the tail was so far away it took a few minutes for the news it was dying to reach it, and we elegantly climbed up the farther bank, leaving behind us the now purple river.

When we reached bushes half hidden under wild vines, it was high time I dismounted. My leg was stiff of course, also sore, but obviously on the mend and all the better for being forgotten a while. I ate a great deal—found gold sloes near, also huckleberries which I was hungry enough to eat though it’s a nuisance, continual seed-spitting. It wasn’t really a filling meal, still less for Urns, but we also found a nest deserted among reeds—four largish oval eggs, three to him and one to me (a little raw egg goes a long way for me) which we pierced and sucked.

After all this, and running water too, I lay down under a fragrant vine-tangle in which gauzy insects skittered round—of course I never tether him.