s he leaned forward in the
howdah, his face working convulsively, his eyes straining to lose no detail
of the repulsive sight. He was enjoying it, like the excited, enthralled
mobs of Indians of all ages around, who pressed forward, gradually pushing
back the line of retainers struggling to keep the ground.

Suddenly the swarming thousands broke loose. They surged madly forward,
engulfing and sweeping the soldiers along with them, and rushed on the
dying bull. They fought savagely to reach it. Those who succeeded threw
themselves on the quivering carcase and with knives or bare hands tore
pieces of still living flesh from it and thrust them into their mouths.
Then, blooded to the eyes, they raised their reddened arms aloft, while
from thousands of throats rang out the fanatical cry:

"_Kali Ma ki jai!_ (Victory to Mother Kali!)"

They surged around the altar. The Rajah was knocked down and nearly
trampled on by the maddened, hysterical crowd. _Dewan_, Ministers,
officials, guards were hustled and swept aside. The cavalry commander saw
his ruler's danger and collecting a dozen of his _sowars_ charged the
religious-mad mob and rescued the Rajah from his dangerous position, riding
down and sabring men, women, and children, the fierce stallions savaging
everyone within reach with their bared teeth.

Chunerbutty, in whom old racial instincts were rekindled, had scarcely been
able to restrain himself from climbing down and joining in the frenzied
rush on the bull. But the turn of events sobered him and induced him to
listen at last to Noreen's entreaties and angry demands from the Englishmen
who bade him order the _mahouts_ to take the visitors away from the
horrible spectacle. As they left they saw the Rajah's golden chariot and
the carriages of the officials being driven helter-skelter across the grass
with their blood-stained and terrified occupants. And the madly fanatical
crowds surged wildly around the altar, while their cries to Kali rent the
air.

The elephants lumbered swiftly in file through the deserted city, for it
was now emptied of its inhabitants. Merchants, traders, shopkeepers,
workers, harlots, and criminals, all had flocked to the _Moti Mahal_ to
witness the sacrifice.

As they entered the Palace gates the _mahout_ of the animal carrying
Barclay, Dermot, and two planters called to a native standing idly in the
courtyard:

"Why wert thou not out with thy elephant, Ebrahim?"

The man addressed, a gre