The train was rapidly gaining headway.
“Get down, sahibs! Come out! You are not allowed—”
He could keep the pace no longer. With a final shriek he let go his hold, and we sped on into the night.
We halted late at night in Buxar, and took a slower train next morning to the holy city of Benares. The train was closely packed with wildly excited natives. Every window framed eager, longing faces straining for the first glimpse of the holy city.
To many of our fellow travelers this trip was one they had dreamed of for years, and this twentieth of April would be the greatest day of their lives. For if they merely looked at the holy city, and at the river that flowed past, they believed the sight helped to purify them of their sins, and assured them of a higher caste in their next life on earth.
As we came round a low sand-hill a murmured chorus of outcries sounded above the rumble of the train. We went to the open window to see what had caused the excitement. There, a half mile distant, the holy river Ganges swept round from the eastward in a graceful curve and flowed on southward across our path. On the opposite shore, bathing its feet in the sparkling stream, sprawled the holy city.
The train rumbled across the railway bridge, and halted on the edge of the city. We plunged into the narrow, crooked streets, and almost lost sight of each other as we were swallowed up in a great whirlpool of people. We pushed our way forward only a short distance before we were tossed aside among the goods placed in front of the shops. Here we paused for breath, and then tried to go on. When we came to a corner, pushing crowds carried us down side streets where we had not chosen to go. People of all shades and castes, and from every part of India, swarmed through the streets.
Holy bulls shouldered us aside as if they cared nothing for the color of our skins. Twice great elephants crossed our path. On the fronts and roofs of Hindu temples, monkeys, wearing glittering rings on every finger, scampered and chattered daringly. No wonder the natives thought that the souls of men lived in the bodies of these bold and lively beasts.
We had been tossed back and forth through the winding streets for more than an hour, when a wild beating of drums and a wailing of music from pipes burst on our ears.
“Religious procession!” screamed Marten, dragging me after him up the steps of a temple. “We’ll have to stand here till it gets by. How are those for glad rags?”