“Kashi is without her Kotwal to-night,” shouted the Man with the drinking-bottle, flinging his staff to the ground, while the island rang to the baying of hounds. “Give her the Justice of the Gods.”
“Ye were still when they polluted my waters,” the great Crocodile bellowed. “Ye made no sign when my river was trapped between the walls. I had no help save my own strength, and that failed—the strength of Mother Gunga failed—before their guard-towers. What could I do? I have done everything. Finish now, Heavenly Ones!”
“I brought the death; I rode the spotted sick-ness from hut to hut of their workmen, and yet they would not cease.” A nose-slitten, hide-worn Ass, lame, scissor-legged, and galled, limped forward. “I cast the death at them out of my nostrils, but they would not cease.”
Peroo would have moved, but the opium lay heavy upon him.
“Bah!” he said, spitting. “Here is Sitala herself; Mata—the small-pox. Has the Sahib a handkerchief to put over his face?”
“Little help! They fed me the corpses for a month, and I flung them out on my sand-bars, but their work went forward. Demons they are, and sons of demons! And ye left Mother Gunga alone for their fire-carriage to make a mock of The Justice of the Gods on the bridge-builders!”
The Bull turned the cud in his mouth and answered slowly: “If the Justice of the Gods caught all who made a mock of holy things there would be many dark altars in the land, mother.”
“But this goes beyond a mock,” said the Tigress, darting forward a griping paw. “Thou knowest, Shiv, and ye, too, Heavenly Ones; ye know that they have defiled Gunga. Surely they must come to the Destroyer. Let Indra judge.”
The Buck made no movement as he answered: “How long has this evil been?
“Three years, as men count years,” said the Mugger, close pressed to the earth.