"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.
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