standing on the top-most coping of the tower, clad in the blue
dungaree of his abandoned service, and as Findlayson motioned to
him to be careful, for his was no life to throw away, he gripped
the last pole, and, shading his eyes ship-fashion, answered with
the long-drawn wail of the fo'c'sle lookout: "Ham dekhta hai"
("I
am looking out"). Findlayson laughed and then sighed. It was
years since he had seen a steamer, and he was sick for home. As
his trolley passed under the tower, Peroo descended by a rope,
ape-fashion, and cried: "It looks well now, Sahib. Our bridge is
all but done. What think you Mother Gunga will say when the rail
runs over?"

"She has said little so far. It was never Mother Gunga that
delayed us."

"There is always time for her; and none the less there has been
delay. Has the Sahib forgotten last autumn's flood, when the
stone-boats were sunk without warning - or only a half-day's
warning?"

"Yes, but nothing save a big flood could hurt us now. The spurs
are holding well on the West Bank."

"Mother Gunga eats great allowances. There is always room for
more stone on the revetments. I tell this to the Chota Sahib "-
he meant Hitchcock - "and he laughs."

"No matter, Peroo. Another year thou wilt be able to build a
bridge in thine own fashion."