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THE WRECK

Along that path through the dewy crops Ramesh, Bipin, and Umesh set forth in search of Kamala, Umesh darting frenzied glances from side to side like a tigress robbed of her young.

Reaching the river-bank all three halted; they had here an uninterrupted view of the whole waste of sand shimmering in the morning sun, but not a soul was in sight.

Umesh called aloud, "O mother, where are you?" but there was no response except from the echo which flung back the words from the high bank across the wide river.

Prowling around Umesh espied a white object in the distance and darting towards it found a bunch of keys wrapped in a handkerchief lying at the water's edge.

"Hallo, what's that?" called Ramesh, arriving sim- ultaneously.

It was indeed Kamala's bunch of keys. Close to where the keys lay the stream had left a small deposit of alluvium and in the soft mud they descried the deep prints of two little feet leading towards the water. A glistening object in the shallow water caught Umesh's roving eye. He drew it out and it proved to be a small enamel brooch mounted in gold, Ramesh's gift to Kamala.

Realising that all the indications pointed clearly to- wards the Ganges, Umesh broke down completely.

He leapt into the shallow water shrieking, "Mother, O mother!" and plunged again and again below the surface like a mad creature, groping with his hands at the bottom till the water was turbid.

Ramesh was too dazed to utter a word and it was Bipin who called to Umesh:

"What are you doing? Come out of that!"

"I won't come out," sputtered Umesh. "Oh, mother, how could you go and leave me like that?"

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