Always it was the river that had given him consolation in times of loneliness.
For him it had grown into a thing with a soul, a thing that personified hope, courage, comradeship, everything that was big and great in final achievement.

And tonight--for he still thought of the darkness as night--the soul of it seemed whispering to him a sort of paean.
He could not lose.

That was the thought that filled him.

Never had his pulse beat with greater assurance, never had a more positive sense of the inevitable possessed him.

It was inconceivable, he thought, even to fear the possibility of being taken by the Police.