"Gods do not wear dirty rags," he said aloud.
"They do not wear anything but wreaths and garlands of flowers and
I am a god--I am Jad-ben-Otho--and I go in state to my sacred city
of A-lur."
He ran his fingers through his matted hair and beard. The water
had softened the burrs but had not removed them. The man shook his
head. His hair and beard failed to harmonize with his other godly
attributes. He was commencing to think more clearly now, for the
great idea had taken hold of his scattered wits and concentrated
them upon a single purpose, but he was still a maniac. The only
difference being that he was now a maniac with a fixed intent. He
went out on the shore and gathered flowers and ferns and wove them
in his beard and hair--blazing blooms of different colors--green
ferns that trailed about his ears or rose bravely upward like the
plumes in a lady's hat.
When he was satisfied that his appearance would impress the most
casual observer with his evident deity he returned to the canoe,
pushed it from shore and jumped in. The impetus carried it into
the river's current and the current bore it out upon the lake. The
naked man stood erect in the center of the little craft, his arms
folded upon his chest. He screamed aloud his message to the city:
"I am Jad-ben-Otho! Let the high priest and the under priests attend
upon me!"
As the current of the river was dissipated by the waters of the
lake the wind caught him and his craft and carried them bravely
forward.
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