“Patron! You know the month? It is the month of March.”
“Certainly it is. What of that?”
“The echente.”
“The echente? What is that?”
“The flood getting bigger. The water on the rise,—the Gapo still growing,—that is the echente.”
“But how should that enable you to determine the direction of the river?”
“It has done so,” replied the Indian. “Not before three months—in June—will come the vasante.”
“The vasante?”
“The vasante, patron: the fall. Then the Gapo will begin to grow less; and the current will be towards the river, as now it is from it.”
“Your story appears reasonable enough. I suppose we may trust to it. If so,” added Trevannion, “we had better direct our course towards yonder tree-tops, and lose no time in getting beyond them. All of you to your paddles, and pull cheerily. Let us make up for the time we have lost through the negligence of Tipperary Tom. Pull, my lads, pull!”