g. "Here is Sitala herself; Mata--the smallpox.
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.

"Does Mother Gunga die, then, in a year, that she is so anxious to
see vengeance now? The deep sea was where she runs but yesterday, and
tomorrow the sea shall cover her again as the Gods count that which men
call time. Can any say that this their bridge endures till tomorrow?"
said the Buck.

There was along hush, and in the clearing of the storm the full moon
stood up above the dripping trees.

"Judge ye, then," said the River, sullenly. "I have spoken my shame. The
flood falls still. I can do no more."

"For my own part"--it was the voice of the great Ape seated within the
shrine--"it pleases me well to watch these men, remembering that I also
builded no small bridge in the world's youth."

"They say, too," snarled the Tiger, "that these men came of the wreck of
thy armies, Hanuman, and therefore thou hast aided--"

"They toil as my armies toiled in Lanka, and they believe that their
toil endures. Indra is too high, but Shiv, thou knowest how the land is
threaded with their fire-carriages."

"Yea, I know," said the Bull. "Their Gods instructed them in the
matter."

A laugh ran round the circle.

"Their Gods! What should their Gods know? They were born yesterday, and
those that made them are scarcely yet cold," said the Mugger, "tomorrow
their Gods will die."

"Ho!" said Peroo. "Mother Gunga talks good talk. I told that to the
padre-sahib who preached on the Mombassa, and he asked the Burra Malum
to put me in irons for a great rudeness."

"Surely they make these things to