So I gripped the strip of yak’s hide that was still fast about him, and, his hand thus freed, Leo made a last splendid effort to keep us both, cumbered as we were with the thick, soaked garments that dragged us down like lead, from being sucked beneath the surface.  Moreover, he succeeded where any other swimmer of less strength must have failed.  Still, I believe that we should have drowned, since here the water ran like a mill-race, had not the man upon the shore, seeing our plight and urged thereto by the woman, run with surprising swiftness in one so aged, to a point of rock that jutted some yards into the stream, past which we were being swept, and seating himself, stretched out his long stick towards us.

With a desperate endeavour, Leo grasped it as we went by, rolling over and over each other, and held on.  Round we swung into the eddy, found our feet, were knocked down again, rubbed and pounded on the rocks.  But still gripping that staff of salvation, to his end of which the old man clung like a limpet to a stone, while the woman clung to him, we recovered ourselves, and, sheltered somewhat by the rock, floundered towards the shore.  Lying on his face—­for we were still in great danger—­the man extended his arm.  We could not reach it; and worse, suddenly the staff was torn from him; we were being swept away.

Then it was that the woman did a noble thing, for springing into the water—­yes, up to her armpits—­and holding fast to the old man by her left hand, with the right she seized Leo’s hair and dragged him shorewards.  Now he found his feet for a moment, and throwing one arm about her slender form, steadied himself thus, while with the other he supported me.  Next followed a long confused struggle, but the end of it was that three of us, the old man, Leo and I, rolled in a heap upon the bank and lay there gasping.

Presently I looked up.  The woman stood over us, water streaming from her garments, staring like one in a dream at Leo’s face, smothered as it was with blood running from a deep cut in his head.  Even then I noticed how stately and beautiful she was.  Now she seemed to awake and, glancing at the robes that clung to her splendid shape, said something to her companion, then turned and ran towards the cliff.

As we lay before him, utterly exhausted, the old man, who had risen, contemplated us solemnly with his dim eyes.  He spoke, but we did not understand.  Again he tried another language and without success.  A third time and our ears were opened, for the tongue he used was Greek; yes, there in Central Asia he addressed us in Greek, not very pure, it is true, but still Greek.

“Are you wizards,” he said, “that you have lived to reach this land?”

“Nay,” I answered in the same tongue, though in broken words—­since of Greek I had thought little for many a year—­“for then we should have come otherwise,” and I pointed to our hurts and the precipice behind us.