Then in a solemn hush he was
raised high in air and held aloft for all to see, beasts and men. And in
the silence a single voice in the awestruck crowds cried shrilly:
"_Hathi ka Deo ki jai!_ (Victory to the God of the Elephants!)"
In wonder, in dread, in superstitious reverence, hundreds of voices took up
the refrain: _"Hathi ka Deo! Hathi ka Deo ki jai!"_
And leaving his thousand companions behind, the sacred elephant that all
recognised now advanced towards the shrinking crowds, bearing the dread
white god upon its neck. Had he not come invisibly among them again? Had
they not witnessed the fate of those that opposed him? Had he not summoned
from all Hindustan his man-devouring monsters to punish, to annihilate his
enemies. Forgetful of their hate, their bloodthirst, their lust of battle,
conscious only of their guilt, the terror-stricken crowds surged forward
and flung themselves down in supplication on the earth. They wept, they
wailed, they bared their heads and poured dust upon them, in all the
extravagant demonstration of Oriental sorrow. Out from the village streamed
the women and children to add their shrill cries to the lamentations.
With uplifted hand, Dermot silenced them. An awful hush succeeded the
tumult. He swept his eyes slowly over them all, and every head went down to
the dust again. Then he spoke, solemnly, clearly; and his voice reached
everyone in the prostrate mob.
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