in his heart in all his life, could, with his untainted intelligence, spontaneously reach out for and attain the true and the good in everything.
On coming to the reef Indra placed the dead body of the unknown boy with infinite tenderness on the water under the deep shadows of the half-submerged casuarinas. The night was then almost spent. Indra remained for a time bending low over the body as if he were straining to catch some sound, some voice. When at length he raised his face in the wan moonlight, it looked very pale.
'Let us go now,' I said.
'Where shall we go?' Indra asked absent-mindedly.
'I thought you just said we were to go somewhere.'
'No, not to-day.'
'All right, then,' I said in an access of relief, 'that's good: let us go home.'
In reply Indra fixed his eyes on my face and asked, 'Do you know, Srikanta, what happens to men when they die?'
'Why, no, I don't,' I said hurriedly. 'Let's get back home. They all go to heaven. Take me back to our house, Indra, in God's name.'
Indra seemed hardly to hear what I said. 'It isn't everyone,' he said, 'that can go to heaven. Besides, they have all to stay here for some time. I tell you, Srikanta, when I was laying him on the water that little boy whispered clearly in Hindi, "Brother".'
I was on the point of bursting into tears out of fright and I said in a trembling voice, 'Don't, please don't
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