The Day's Work

[3]

HE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

was twenty-four feet in diameter, capped with red Agra
stone and sunk eighty feet below the shifting sand of the
Ganges' bed. Above them was a railway-line fifteen feet
broad; above that, again, a cart-road of eighteen feet,
flanked with footpaths. At either end rose towers, of red
brick, loopholed for musketry and pierced for big guns,
and the ramp of the road was being pushed forward to
their haunches. The raw earth-ends were crawling and
alive with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny asses climb-
ing out of the yawning borrow-pit below with sackfuls
of stuff ; and the hot afternoon air was filled with the
noise of hooves, the rattle of the drivers' sticks, and the
swish and roll-down of the dirt. The river was very
low, and on the dazzling white sand between the three
centre piers stood squat cribs of railway-sleepers, filled
within and daubed without with mud, to support the last
of the girders as those were riveted up. In the little
deep water left by the drought, an overhead-crane trav-
elled to and fro along its spile-pier, jerking sections of
iron into place, snorting and backing and grunting as
an elephant grunts in the timber-yard. Riveters by the
hundred swarmed about the lattice side- work and the
iron roof of the railway-line, hung from invisible stag-
ing under the bellies of the girders, clustered round the
throats of the piers, and rode on the overhang of the
footpath-stanchions; their fire-pots and the spurts of
flame that answered each hammer-stroke showing no
more than pale yellow in the sun's glare. East and
west and north and south the construction- trains rattled
and shrieked up and down the embankments, the piled
trucks of brown and white stone banging behind them

[4]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

till the side-boards were unpinned, and with a roar
and a grumble a few thousand tons more material were
flung out to hold the river in place.

Findlayson, C. E., turned on his trolley and looked
over the face of the country that he had changed for
seven miles around. Looked back on the humming vil-
lage of five thousand workmen; up stream and down,
along the vista of spurs and sand ; across the river to the
far piers, lessening in the haze; overhead to the guard-
towers— and only he knew how strong those were— and
with a sigh of contentment saw that his work was good.
There stood his bridge before him in the sunlight, lack-
ing only a few weeks' work on the girders of the three
middle piers— his bridge, raw and ugly as original sin,
lout pukka— permanent— to endure when all memory of
the builder, yea, even of the splendid Findlayson truss,
had perished. Practically, the thing was done.

Hitchcock, his assistant, cantered along the line on a
little switch-tailed Kabuli pony who through long prac-
tice could have trotted securely over a trestle, and
nodded to his chief.

" All but," said he, with a smile.

" I 've been thinking about it," the senior answered.
" ' Not half a bad job for two men, is it? "

" One— and a half. 'Gad, what a Cooper's Hill cub I
was when I came on the works ! ' ' Hitchcock felt very
old in the crowded experiences of the past three years,
that had taught him power and responsibility.

" You were rather a colt," said Findlayson. " I won-
der how you '11 like going back to office- work when this
job 's over."

[5]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" I shall hate it ! " said the young man, and as he
went on his eye followed Findlayson's, and he muttered,
" Is n't it damned good? "

" I think we '11 go up the service together," Findlay-
son said to himself. u You 're too good a youngster to
waste on another man. Cub thou wast ; assistant thou
art. Personal assistant, and at Simla, thou shalt be, if
any credit comes to me out of the business! "

Indeed, the burden of the work had fallen altogether
on Findlayson and his assistant, the young man whom
he had chosen because of his rawness to break to his
own needs. There were labour contractors by the half-
hundred—fitters and riveters, European, borrowed from
the railway workshops, with, perhaps, twenty white and
half-caste subordinates to direct, under direction, the
bevies of workmen— but none knew better than these
two, who trusted each other, how the underlings were
not to be trusted. They had been tried many times in
sudden crises— by slipping of booms, by breaking of
tackle, failure of cranes, and the wrath of the river —
but no stress had brought to light any man among men
whom Findlayson and Hitchcock would have honoured
by working as remorselessly as they worked themselves.
Findlayson thought it over from the beginning: the
months of office- work destroyed at a blow when the
Government of India, at the last moment, added two
feet to the width of the bridge, under the impression that
bridges were cut out of paper, and so brought to ruin at
least half an acre of calculations— and Hitchcock, new to
disappointment, buried his head in his arms and wept;
the heart-breaking delays over the filling of the contracts

[6]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

in England ; the futile correspondences hinting at great
wealth of commissions if one, only one, rather doubtful
consignment were passed; the war that followed the
refusal ; the careful, polite obstruction at the other end
that followed the war, till young Hitchcock, putting one
month's leave to another month, and borrowing ten days
from Findlayson, spent his poor little savings of a year
in a wild dash to London, and there, as his own tongue as-
serted and the later consignments proved, put the fear of
God into a man so great that he feared only Parliament
and said so till Hitchcock wrought with him across his
own dinner-table, and— he feared the Kashi Bridge and
all who spoke in its name. Then there was the cholera
that came in the night to the village by the bridge works ;
and after the cholera smote the small-pox. The fever they
had always with them. Hitchcock had been appointed
a magistrate of the third class with whipping powers,
for the better government of the community, and Find-
layson watched him wield his powers temperately, learn-
ing what to overlook and what to look after. It was a
long, long reverie, and it covered storm, sudden freshets,
death in every manner and shape, violent and awful rage
against red tape half frenzying a mind that knows it
should be busy on other things; drought, sanitation,
finance; birth, wedding, burial, and riot in the village
of twenty warring castes; argument, expostulation,
persuasion, and the blank despair that a man goes to
bed upon, thankful that his rifle is all in pieces in the
gun-case. Behind everything rose the black frame of
the Kashi Bridge— plate by plate, girder by girder,
span by span— and each pier of it recalled Hitchcock,

[7]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

the all-round man, who had stood by his chief without
failing from the very first to this last.

So the bridge was two men's work— unless one counted
Peroo, as Peroo certainly counted himself. He was a
Lascar, a Kharva from Bulsar, familiar with every port
between Rockhampton and London, who had risen to the
rank of serang on the British India boats, but wearying
of routine musters and clean clothes, had thrown up
the service and gone inland, where men of his calibre
were sure of employment. For his knowledge of tackle
and the handling of heavy weights, Peroo was worth
almost any price he might have chosen to put upon his
services ; but custom decreed the wage of the overhead-
men, and Peroo was not within many silver pieces of
his proper value. Neither running water nor extreme
heights made him afraid ; and, as an ex-serang, he knew
how to hold authority. No piece of iron was so big or
so badly placed that Peroo could not devise a tackle to
lift it — a loose-ended, sagging arrangement, rigged with
a scandalous amount of talking, but perfectly equal to
the work in hand. It was Peroo who had saved the
girder of Number Seven pier from destruction when the
new wire rope jammed in the eye of the crane, and the
huge plate tilted in its slings, threatening to slide out
sideways. Then the native workmen lost their heads
with great shoutings, and Hitchcock's right arm was
broken by a falling T-plate, and he buttoned it up in his
coat and swooned, and came to and directed for four
hours till Peroo, from the top of the crane, reported
" All 's well," and the plate swung home. There was
no one like Peroo, serang, to lash, and guy, and hold, to

[8]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

control the donkey-engines, to hoist a fallen locomotive
craftily out of the borrow-pit into which it had tumbled;
to strip, and dive, if need be, to see how the concrete
blocks round the piers stood the scouring of Mother
Gunga, or to adventure up-stream on a monsoon night
and report on the state of the embankment-facings.
He would interrupt the field-councils of Findlayson
and Hitchcock without fear, till his wonderful English,
or his still more wonderful lingua- franca, half Portu-
guese and half Malay, ran out and he was forced to
take string and show the knots that he would recom-
mend. He controlled his own gang of tacklemen— mys-
terious relatives from Kutch Mandvi gathered month by
month and tried to the uttermost. No consideration of
family or kin allowed Peroo to keep weak hands or a
giddy head on the pay-roll. ' ' My honour is the honour
of this bridge," he would say to the about- to-be-dis-
missed. " What do I care for your honour? Go and
work on a steamer. That is all you are fit for. ' '

The little cluster of huts where he and his gang lived
centred round the tattered dwelling of a sea-priest—one
who had never set foot on black water, but had been
chosen as ghostly counsellor by two generations of sea-
rovers all unaffected by port missions or those creeds
which are thrust upon sailors by agencies along Thames
bank. The priest of the Lascars had nothing to do with
their caste, or indeed with anything at all. He ate the
offerings of his church, and slept and smoked, and slept
again, " for," said Peroo, who had haled him a thousand
miles inland, " he is a very holy man. He never cares
what you eat so long as you do not eat beef, and that is

[9]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

good, because on land we worship Shiva, we Kharvas;
but at sea on the Kumpani's boats we attend strictly to
the orders of the Burra Malum [the first mate], and on
this bridge we observe what Finlinson Sahib says. ' '

Finlinson Sahib had that day given orders to clear the
scaffolding from the guard-tower on the right bank, and
Peroo with his mates was casting loose and lowering
down the bamboo poles and planks as swiftly as ever
they had whipped the cargo out of a coaster.

From his trolley he could hear the whistle of the
serang's silver pipe and the creak and clatter of the
pulleys. Peroo was standing on the topmost coping of
the tower, clad in the blue dungaree of his abandoned
service, and as Findlayson motioned to him to be care-
ful, for his was no life to throw away, he gripped the last
pole, and, shading his eyes ship-fashion, answered with
the long-drawn wail of the fo'c'sle lookout: u Ham
dekhta hai " (" I am looking out ' ') . Findlayson laughed
and then sighed. It was years since he had seen a
steamer, and he was sick for home. As his trolley passed
under the tower, Peroo descended by a rope, ape-fash-
ion, and cried: " It looks well now, Sahib. Our bridge
is all but done. What think you Mother Gunga will
say when the rail runs over? "

" She has said little so far. It was never Mother
Gunga that delayed us."

" There is always time for her; and none the less
there has been delay. Has the Sahib forgotten last au-
tumn's flood, when the stone-boats were sunk without
warning— or only a half -day's warning? "

" Yes, but nothing save a big flood could hurt us now.
The spurs are holding well on the west bank."
[10]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

1 * Mother Gunga eats great allowances. There is always
room for more stone on the revetments. I tell this
to the Chota Sahib"— he meant Hitchcock— " and he
laughs."

" No matter, Peroo. Another year thou wilt be able
to build a bridge in thine own fashion."

The Lascar grinned. u Then it will not be in this
way— with stonework sunk under water, as the Quetta
was sunk. I like sus-sus-pen-sheen bridges that fly from
bank to bank, with one big step, like a gang-plank. Then
no water can hurt. When does the Lord Sahib come to
open the bridge? "

" In three months, when the weather is cooler."

" Ho! ho! He is like the Burra Malum. He sleeps
below while the work is being done. Then he comes
upon the quarter-deck and touches with his finger, and
says : ' This is not clean ! Dam jibboonwallah ! ' "

" But the Lord Sahib does not call me a dam jibboon-
wallah, Peroo."

' ' No, Sahib ; but he does not come on deck till the work
is all finished. Even the Burra Malum of the Nerbudda
said once at Tuticorin— "

uBah! Go! I am busy."

" I, also ! " said Peroo, with an unshaken countenance.
" May I take the light dinghy now and row along the
spurs?"

" To hold them with thy hands? They are, I think,
sufficiently heavy."

' * Nay, Sahib. It is thus. At sea, on the Black Water,
we have room to be blown up and down without care.
Here we have no room at all. Look you, we have put
the river into a dock, and run her between stone sills."

[11]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Findlayson smiled at the " we."

" "We have bitted and bridled her. She is not like the
sea, that can beat against a soft beach. She is Mother
Gunga— in irons." His voice fell a little.

" Peroo, thou hast been up and down the world more
even than I. Speak true talk, now. How much dost
thou in thy heart believe of Mother Gunga? "

"AH that our priest says. London is London, Sahib.
Sydney is Sydney, and Port Darwin is Port Darwin.
Also Mother Gunga is Mother Gunga, and when I come
back to her banks I know this and worship. In London
I did poojah to the big temple by the river for the
sake of the God within. . . . Yes, I will not take the
cushions in the dinghy."

Findlayson mounted his horse and trotted to the shed
of a bungalow that he shared with his assistant. The
place had become home to him in the last three years.
He had grilled in the heat, sweated in the rains, and
shivered with fever under the rude thatch roof; the
lime- wash beside the door was covered with rough draw-
ings and formulae, and the sentry-path trodden in the
matting of the verandah showed where he had walked
alone. There is no eight-hour limit to an engineer's
work, and the evening meal with Hitchcock was eaten
booted and spurred : over their cigars they listened to
the hum of the village as the gangs came up from the
river-bed and the lights began to twinkle.

" Peroo has gone up the spurs in your dinghy. He 's
taken a couple of nephews with him, and he 's lolling
in the stern like a commodore," said Hitchcock.

" That 's all right. He 's got something on his mind.
[12]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

You 'd think that ten years in the British India boats
would have knocked most of his religion out of him."

" So it has, ' ' said Hitchcock, chuckling. ' ' I overheard
him the other day in the middle of a most atheistical
talk with that fat old guru of theirs. Peroo denied the
efficacy of prayer; and wanted the guru to go to sea
and watch a gale out with him, and see if he could
stop a monsoon."

"All the same, if you carried off his guru he 'd leave
us like a shot. He was yarning away to me about pray-
ing to the dome of St. Paul's when he was in London."

" He told me that the first time he went into the
engine-room of a steamer, when he was a boy, he prayed
to the low-pressure cylinder."

" Not half a bad thing to pray to, either. He 's pro-
pitiating his own Gods now, and he wants to know what
Mother Gunga will think of a bridge being run across
her. Who ' s there ? " A shadow darkened the doorway,
and a telegram was put into Hitchcock's hand.

" She ought to be pretty well used to it by this time.
Only a tar. It ought to be Ealli's answer about the new
rivets. . . . Great Heavens!" Hitchcock jumped to
his feet.

"What is it?" said the senior, and took the form.
" That 's what Mother Gunga thinks, is it," he said,
reading. " Keep cool, young 'un. We 've got all our
work cut out for us. Let 's see. Muir wired half an
hour ago : 'Floods on the Ramgunga. Look out. ' Well,
that gives us— one, two— nine and a half for the flood
to reach Melipur Ghaut and seven 's sixteen and a half
to Lataoli— say fifteen hours before it comes down to us. ' '
[13]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" Curse that hill- fed sewer of a Ramgunga! Find-
layson, this is two months before anything could have
been expected, and the left bank is littered up with stuff
still. Two full months before the time !"

* * That 's why it comes. I ' ve only known Indian rivers
for five-and- twenty years, and I don't pretend to under-
stand. Here comes another far." Findlayson opened
the telegram. " Cockran, this tune, from the Ganges
Canal : * Heavy rains here. Bad. ' He might have saved
the last word. "Well, we don't want to know any more.
We 've got to work the gangs all night and clean up the
river-bed. You '11 take the east bank and work out to
meet me in the middle. Get every thing that floats
below the bridge: we shall have quite enough river-
craft coming down adrift anyhow, without letting the
stone-boats ram the piers. What have you got on the
east bank that needs looking after? "

4 ' Pontoon — one big pontoon with the overhead crane on
it. T' other overhead crane on the mended pontoon, with
the cart-road rivets from Twenty to Twenty-three piers—
two construction lines, and a turning-spur. The pile-
work must take its chance," said Hitchcock.

" All right. Roll up everything you can lay hands
on. We '11 give the gang fifteen minutes more to eat
their grub."

Close to the verandah stood a big night-gong, never
used except for flood, or fire in the village. Hitchcock
had called for a fresh horse, and was off to his side of the
bridge when Findlayson took the cloth-bound stick and
smote with the rubbing stroke that brings out the full
thunder of the metal.

[14]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Long before the last rumble ceased every night-gong
in the village had taken up the warning. To these were
added the hoarse screaming of conches in the little
temples; the throbbing of drums and tom-toms; and,
from the European quarters, where the riveters lived,
McCartney's bugle, a weapon of offence on Sundays and
festivals, brayed desperately, calling to " Stables." En-
gine after engine toiling home along the spurs at the end
of her day's work whistled in answer till the whistles
were answered from the far bank. Then the big gong
thundered thrice for a sign that it was flood and not fire ;
conch, drum, and whistle echoed the call, and the vil-
lage quivered to the sound of bare feet running upon
soft earth. The order in all cases was to stand by the
day's work and wait instructions. The gangs poured by
in the dusk ; men stopping to knot a loin-cloth or fasten
a sandal; gang-foremen shouting to their subordinates
as they ran or paused by the tool-issue sheds for bars
and mattocks ; locomotives creeping down their tracks
wheel-deep in the crowd ; till the brown torrent disap-
peared into the dusk of the river-bed, raced over the
pilework, swarmed along the lattices, clustered by the
cranes, and stood still— each man in his place.

Then the troubled beating of the gong carried the
order to take up everything and bear it beyond high-
water mark, and the flare-lamps broke out by the hun-
dred between the webs of dull iron as the riveters
began a night's work, racing against the flood that was
to come. The girders of the three centre piers— those
that stood on the cribs— were all but in position. They
needed just as many rivets as could be driven into them,
[15]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

for the flood would assuredly wash out their supports,
and the ironwork would settle down on the caps of
stone if they were not blocked at the ends. A hundred
crowbars strained at the sleepers of the temporary line
that fed the unfinished piers. It was heaved up in
lengths, loaded into trucks, and backed up the bank
beyond flood-level by the groaning locomotives. The
tool-sheds on the sands melted away before the attack
of shouting armies, and with them went the stacked
ranks of Government stores, iron-bound boxes of rivets,
pliers, cutters, duplicate parts of the riveting-machines,
spare pumps and chains. The big crane would be the
last to be shifted, for she was hoisting all the heavy stuff
up to the main structure of the bridge. The concrete
blocks on the fleet of stone-boats were dropped over-
side, where there was any depth of water, to guard
the piers, and the empty boats themselves were poled
under the bridge down-stream. It was here that Pe-
roo's pipe shrilled loudest, for the first stroke of the
big gong had brought the dinghy back at racing speed,
and Peroo and his people were stripped to the waist,
working for the honour and credit which are better
than life.

" I knew she would speak," he cried. u Jknew, but
the telegraph gives us good warning. O sons of un-
thinkable begetting— children of unspeakable shame-
are we here for the look of the thing? ' ' It was two feet
of wire-rope frayed at the ends, and it did wonders as
Peroo leaped from gunnel to gunnel, shouting the lan-
guage of the sea.

Findlayson was more troubled for the stone-boats

[16]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

than anything else. McCartney, with his gangs, was
blocking up the ends of the three doubtful spans, but
boats adrift, if the flood chanced to be a high one, might
endanger the girders; and there was a very fleet in the
shrunken channel.

" Get them behind the swell of the guard- tower/* he
shouted down to Peroo. " It will be dead-water there.
Get them below the bridge."

"Accha! [Very good.] J know; we are mooring
them with wire-rope, ' ' was the answer. * ' Heh ! Listen
to the Chota Sahib. He is working hard. "

From across the river came an almost continuous
whistling of locomotives, backed by the rumble of stone.
Hitchcock at the last minute was spending a few hun-
dred more trucks of Tarakee stone in reinforcing his
spurs and embankments.

" The bridge challenges Mother Gunga," said Peroo,
with a laugh. * * But when she talks I know whose voice
will be the loudest."

For hours the naked men worked, screaming and
shouting under the lights. It was a hot, moonless
night; the end of it was darkened by clouds and a sudden
squall that made Findlayson very grave.

"She moves!" said Peroo, just before the dawn.
''Mother Gunga is awake! Hearl" He dipped his
hand over the side of a boat and the current mumbled
on it. A little wave hit the side of a pier with a crisp
slap.

* ' Six hours before her time, ' ' said Findlayson, mopping
his forehead savagely. " Now we can't depend on any-
thing. We ' d better clear all hands out of the river-bed. ' '
[17]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Again the big gong beat, and a second time there was
the rushing of naked feet on earth and ringing iron ; the
clatter of tools ceased. In the silence, men heard the
dry yawn of water crawling over thirsty sand.

Foreman after foreman shouted to Findlayson, who
had posted himself by the guard-tower, that his section
of the river-bed had been cleaned out, and when the last
voice dropped Findlayson hurried over the bridge till the
iron plating of the permanent way gave place to the
temporary plank- walk over the three centre piers, and
there he met Hitchcock.

' * 'All clear your side ? ' ' said Findlayson. The whisper
rang in the box of latticework.

" Yes, and the east channel 's filling now. We 're
utterly out of our reckoning. When is this thing down
on us?"

" There 's no saying. She 's filling as fast as she can.
Look ! ' ' Findlayson pointed to the planks below his
feet, where the sand, burned and defiled by months of
work, was beginning to whisper and fizz.

" What orders? " said Hitchcock.

" Call the roll— count stores— sit on your hunkers—
and pray for the bridge. That 's all I can think of.
Good night. Don't risk your life trying to fish out
anything that may go down-stream. ' '

" Oh, I '11 be as prudent as you are! 'Night! Hea-
vens, how she 's filling! Here 's the rain in earnest 1 "
Findlayson picked his way back to his bank, sweeping
the last of McCartney's riveters before him. The gangs
had spread themselves along the embankments, regard-
less of the cold rain of the dawn, and there they waited
[18]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

for the flood. Only Peroo kept his men together behind
the swell of the guard-tower, where the stone-boats lay
tied fore and aft with hawsers, wire-rope, and chains.

A shrill wail ran along the line, growing to a yell, half
fear and half wonder : the face of the river whitened from
bank to bank between the stone facings, and the far-
away spurs went out in spouts of foam. Mother Gunga
had come bank-high in haste, and a wall of chocolate-
coloured water was her messenger. There was a shriek
above the roar of the water, the complaint of the spans
coming down on their blocks as the cribs were whirled
out from under their bellies. The stone-boats groaned
and ground each other in the eddy that swung round
the abutment, and their clumsy masts rose higher and
higher against the dim sky-line.

" Before she was shut between these walls we knew
what she would do. Now she is thus cramped God only
knows what she will do!" said Peroo, watching the
furious turmoil round the guard- tower. ' ' Ohe ! Fight,
then ! Fight hard, for it is thus that a woman wears
herself out."

But Mother Gunga would not fight as Peroo desired.
After the first down-stream plunge there came no more
walls of water, but the river lifted herself bodily, as a
snake when she drinks in midsummer, plucking and
fingering along the revetments, and banking up behind
the piers till even Findlayson began to recalculate the
strength of his work.

When day came the village gasped. ' * Only last night, ' '
men said, turning to each other, " it was as a town in
the river-bed! Look now I"
[19]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

And they looked and wondered afresh at the deep
water, the racing water that licked the throat of the
piers. The farther bank was veiled by rain, into which
the bridge ran out and vanished; the spurs up-stream
were marked by no more than eddies and spoutings,
and down- stream the pent river, once freed of her
guide-lines, had spread like a sea to the horizon. Then
hurried by, rolling in the water, dead men and oxen
together, with here and there a patch of thatched roof
that melted when it touched a pier.

" Big flood,1' said Peroo, and Findlayson nodded. It
was as big a flood as he had any wish to watch. His
bridge would stand what was upon her now, but not very
much more, and if by any of a thousand chances there
happened to be a weakness in the embankments, Mother
Gunga would carry his honour to the sea with the other
raffle. Worst of all, there was nothing to do except to
sit still ; and Findlayson sat still under his macintosh till
his helmet became pulp on his head, and his boots were
over-ankle in mire. He took no count of time, for the
river was marking the hours, inch by inch and foot by
foot, along the embankment, and he listened, numb and
hungry, to the straining of the stone-boats, the hollow
thunder under the piers, and the hundred noises that
make the full note of a flood. Once a dripping servant
brought him food, but he could not eat; and once he
thought that he heard a faint toot from a locomotive
across the river, and then he smiled. The bridge's failure
would hurt his assistant not a little, but Hitchcock was
a young man with his big work yet to do. For himself
the crash meant everything— everything that made a

[20]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

hard life worth the living. They would say, the men of
his own profession ... he remembered the half-
pitying things that he himself had said when Lock-
hart's new waterworks burst and broke down in brick-
heaps and sludge, and Lockhart's spirit broke in him
and he died. He remembered what he himself had said
when the Sumao Bridge went out in the big cyclone by
the sea; and most he remembered poor Hartopp's face
three weeks later, when the shame had marked it. His
bridge was twice the size of Hartopp's, and it carried
the Findlayson truss as well as the new pier-shoe— the
Findlayson bolted shoe. There were no excuses in his
service. Government might listen, perhaps, but his
own kind would judge him by his bridge, as that stood
or fell. He went over it in his head, plate by plate,
span by span, brick by brick, pier by pier, remember-
ing, comparing, estimating, and recalculating, lest there
should be any mistake ; and through the long hours
and through the nights of formulae that danced and
wheeled before him a cold fear would come to pinch his
heart. His side of the sum was beyond question; but
what man knew Mother Gunga's arithmetic? Even as
he was making all sure by the multiplication-table, the
river might be scooping a pot-hole to the very bottom
of any one of those eighty-foot piers that carried his
reputation. Again a servant came to him with food,
but his mouth was dry, and he could only drink and
return to the decimals in his brain. And the river was
still rising. Peroo, in a mat shelter-coat, crouched at
his feet, watching now his face and now the face of
the river, but saying nothing.
[21]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

At last the Lascar rose and floundered through the
mud towards the village, but he was careful to leave an
ally to watch the boats.

Presently he returned, most irreverently driving be-
fore him the priest of his creed— a fat old man, with a
grey beard that whipped the wind with the wet cloth
that blew over his shoulder. Never was seen so lamen-
table a guru.

1 * What good are offerings and little kerosene lamps and
dry grain," shouted Peroo, " if squatting in the mud is
all that thou canst do? Thou hast dealt long with the
Gods when they were contented and well-wishing. Now
they are angry. Speak to them I "

" What is a man against the wrath of Gods? " whined
the priest, cowering as the wind took him. ' * Let me go
to the temple, and I will pray there. ' '

u Son of a pig, pray here ! Is there no return for salt
fish and curry powder and dried onions? Call aloud!
Tell Mother Gunga we have had enough. Bid her be
still for the night. I cannot pray, but I have been serv-
ing in the Kumpani's boats, and when men did not
obey my orders I—" A flourish of the wire-rope colt
rounded the sentence, and the priest, breaking free from
his disciple, fled to the village.

" Fat pig!" said Peroo. "After all that we have
done for him ! When the flood is down I will see to it
that we get a new guru. Finlinson Sahib, it darkens for
night now, and since yesterday nothing has been eaten.
Be wise, Sahib. No man can endure watching and great
thinking on an empty belly. Lie down, Sahib. The
river will do what the river will do."

[22]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" The bridge is mine; I cannot leave it."

" Wilt thou hold it up with thy hands, then?" said
Peroo, laughing. " I was troubled for my boats and
sheers before the flood came. Now we are in the hands
of the Gods. The Sahib will not eat and lie down?
Take these, then. They are meat and good toddy to-
gether, and they kill all weariness, besides the fever
that follows the rain. I have eaten nothing else to-day
at all."

He took a small tin tobacco-box from his sodden waist-
belt and thrust it into Findlayson's hand, saying:
11 Nay, do not be afraid. It is no more than opium-
clean Malwa opium ! ' '

Findlayson shook two or three of the dark-brown
pellets into his hand, and hardly knowing what he did,
swallowed them. The stuff was at least a good guard
against fever— the fever that was creeping upon him
out of the wet mud— and he had seen what Peroo could
do in the stewing mists of autumn on the strength of a
dose from the tin box.

Peroo nodded with bright eyes. " In a little— in a
little the Sahib will find that he thinks well again. I too
will—" He dived into his treasure-box, resettled the
rain-coat over his head, and squatted down to watch the
boats. It was too dark now to see beyond the first pier,
and the night seemed to have given the river new
strength. Findlayson stood with his chin on his chest,
thinking. There was one point about one of the piers—
the seventh— that he had not fully settled in his mind.
The figures would not shape themselves to the eye ex-
cept one by one and at enormous intervals of time.
[23]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

There was a sound rich and mellow in his ears like the
deepest note of a double-bass— an entrancing sound
upon which he pondered for several hours, as it seemed.
Then Peroo was at his elbow, shouting that a wire
hawser had snapped and the stone-boats were loose.
Findlayson saw the fleet open and swing out fanwise
to a long-drawn shriek of wire straining across gunnels.

" A tree hit them. They will all go," cried Peroo.
* * The main hawser has parted. What does the Sahib do? "

An immensely complex plan had suddenly flashed into
Findlay son's mind. He saw the ropes running from
boat to boat in straight lines and angles— each rope a
line of white fire. But there was one rope which was the
master rope. He could see that rope. If he could pull
it once, it was absolutely and mathematically certain
that the disordered fleet would reassemble itself in the
backwater behind the guard-tower. But why, he won-
dered, was Peroo clinging so desperately to his waist as
he hastened down the bank? It was necessary to put the
Lascar aside, gently and slowly, because it was necessary
to save the boats, and, further, to demonstrate the ex-
treme ease of the problem that looked so difficult. And
then— but it was of no conceivable importance— a wire-
rope raced through his hand, burning it, the high bank
disappeared, and with it all the slowly dispersing fac-
tors of the problem. He was sitting in the rainy dark-
ness—sitting in a boat that spun like a top, and Peroo
was standing over him.

" I had forgotten," said the Lascar, slowly, " that to
those fasting and unused, the opium is worse than any
wine. Those who die in Gunga go to the Gods. Still, I
[24]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

have no desire to present myself before such great ones.
Can the Sahib swim? "

* ' What need? He can fly —fly as swiftly as the wind, ' '
was the thick answer.

44 He is mad ! " muttered Peroo, under his breath.
"And he threw me aside like a bundle of dung-cakes.
Well, he will not know his death. The boat cannot live
an hour here even if she strike nothing. It is not good
to look at death with a clear eye."

He refreshed himself again from the tin box, squatted
down in the bows of the reeling, pegged, and stitched
craft, staring through the mist at the nothing that was
there. A warm drowsiness crept over Findlayson,
the Chief Engineer, whose duty was with his bridge.
The heavy raindrops struck him with a thousand tingling
little thrills, and the weight of all time since time was
made hung heavy on his eyelids. He thought and per-
ceived that he was perfectly secure, for the water was
so solid that a man could surely step out upon it, and,
standing still with his legs apart to keep his balance—
this was the most important point— would be borne with
great and easy speed to the shore. But yet a better
plan came to him. It needed only an exertion of will
for the soul to hurl the body ashore as wind drives
paper, to waft it kite-fashion to the bank. Thereafter
— the boat spun dizzily— suppose the high wind got
under the freed body? Would it tower up like a kite
and pitch headlong on the far-away sands, or would it
duck about, beyond control, through all eternity? Find-
layson gripped the gunnel to anchor himself, for it
seemed that he was on the edge of taking the flight be-
[25]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

fore he had settled all his plans. Opium has more effect
on the white man than the black. Peroo was only com-
fortably indifferent to accidents. "She cannot live,"
he grunted. " Her seams open already. If she were
even a dinghy with oars we could have ridden it out; but
a box with holes is no good. Finlinson Sahib, she fills. ' '

" Accha ! I am going away. Come thou also."

In his mind, Findlayson had already escaped from
the boat, and was circling high in air to find a rest for
the sole of his foot. His body— he was really sorry for
its gross helplessness— lay in the stern, the water rush-
ing about its knees.

" How very ridiculous! " he said to himself, from his
eyrie—" that— is Findlayson— chief of the Kashi Bridge.
The poor beast is going to be drowned, too. Drowned
when it 's close to shore. I 'm — I 'm on shore already.
Why does n't it come along? "

To his intense disgust, he found his soul back in his
body again, and that body spluttering and choking in
deep water. The pain of the reunion was atrocious, but
it was necessary, also, to fight for the body. He was con-
scious of grasping wildly at wet sand, and striding
prodigiously, as one strides in a dream, to keep foot-
hold in the swirling water, till at last he hauled himself
clear of the hold of the river, and dropped, panting, on
wet earth.

" Not this night," said Peroo, in his ear. " The Gods
have protected us." The Lascar moved his feet cau-
tiously, and they rustled among dried stumps. ' ' This is
some island of last year's indigo-crop," he went on.
"We shall find no men here; but have great care,
[26]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Sahib; all the snakes of a hundred miles have been
flooded out. Here comes the lightning, on the heels of
the wind. Now we shall be able to look; but walk
carefully."

Findlayson was far and far beyond any fear of snakes,
or indeed any merely human emotion. He saw, after he
had rubbed the water from his eyes, with an immense
clearness, and trod, so it seemed to himself, with world-
encompassing strides. Somewhere in the night of time
he had built a bridge— a bridge that spanned illimitable
levels of shining seas; but the Deluge had swept it away,
leaving this one island under heaven for Findlayson and
his companion, sole survivors of the breed of Man.

An incessant lightning, forked and blue, showed all
that there was to be seen on the little patch in the flood
—a clump of thorn, a clump of swaying creaking bam-
boos, and & grey gnarled peepul overshadowing a Hindoo
shrine, from whose dome floated a tattered red flag. The
holy man whose summer resting-place it was had long
since abandoned it, and the weather had broken the red-
daubed image of his god. The two men stumbled, heavy-
limbed and heavy-eyed, over the ashes of a brick-set
cooking-place, and dropped down under the shelter of the
branches, while the rain and river roared together.

The stumps of the indigo crackled, and there was a
smell of cattle, as a huge and dripping Brahminee bull
shouldered his way under the tree. The flashes revealed
the trident mark of Shiva on his flank, the insolence of
head and hump, the luminous stag-like eyes, the brow
crowned with a wreath of sodden marigold blooms, and
the silky dewlap that almost swept the ground. There
[27]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

was a noise behind him of other beasts coming up from
the flood-line through the thicket, a sound of heavy
feet and deep breathing.

" Here be more beside ourselves," said Findlayson, his
head against the tree-pole, looking through half-shut
eyes, wholly at ease.

" Truly," said Peroo, thickly, " and no small ones."

" What are they, then? I do not see clearly."

"The Gods. Who else? Look!"

" Ah, true! The Gods surely— the Gods." Findlay-
son smiled as his head fell forward on his chest. Peroo
was eminently right. After the Flood, who should be
alive in the land except the Gods that made it— the Gods
to whom his village prayed nightly— the Gods who were
in all men's mouths and about all men's ways. He could
not raise his head or stir a finger for the trance that held
him, and Peroo was smiling vacantly at the lightning.

The Bull paused by the shrine, his head lowered to the
damp earth. A green Parrot in the branches preened his
wet wings and screamed against the thunder as the circle
under the tree filled with the shifting shadows of beasts.
There was a black Buck at the Bull's heels— such a Buck
as Findlayson in his far-away life upon earth might have
seen in dreams— a Buck with a royal head, ebon back,
silver belly, and gleaming straight horns. Beside him,
her head bowed to the ground, the green eyes burning
under the heavy brows, with restless tail switching the
dead grass, paced a Tigress, full-bellied and deep-jowled.

The Bull crouched beside the shrine, and there leaped
from the darkness a monstrous grey Ape, who seated
himself man-wise in the place of the fallen image, and

[28]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

the rain spilled like jewels from the hair of his neck and
shoulders.

Other shadows came and went behind the circle, among
them a drunken Man flourishing staff and drinking-
bottle. Then a hoarse bellow broke out from near the
ground. "The flood lessens even now," it cried.
" Hour by hour the water falls, and their bridge still
stands!"

"My bridge," said Findlayson to himself. "That
must be very old work now. What have the Gods to do
with my bridge? "

His eyes rolled in the darkness following the roar. A
Mugger— the blunt-nosed, ford-haunting Mugger of the
Ganges— draggled herself before the beasts, lashing furi-
ously to right and left with her tail.

" They have made it too strong for me. In all this
night I have only torn away a handful of planks. The
walls stand. The towers stand. They have chained my
flood, and the river is not free any more. Heavenly
Ones, take this yoke away! Give me clear water be-
tween bank and bank! It is I, Mother Gunga, that
speak. The Justice of the Gods! Deal me the Justice
of the Gods!"

" What said I? " whispered Peroo. " This is in truth
a Punchayet of the Gods. Now we know that all the
world is dead, save you and I, Sahib."

The Parrot screamed and fluttered again, and the
Tigress, her ears flat to her head, snarled wickedly.

Somewhere in the shadow, a great trunk and gleaming
tusks swayed to and fro, and a low gurgle broke the
silence that followed on the snarl.
[29]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" We be here," said a deep voice, " the Great Ones.
One only and very many. Shiv, my father, is here, with
Indra. Kali has spoken already. Hanuman listens
also."

" 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 sickness
from hut to hut of their workmen, and yet they would
not cease." A nose-slitten, hide- worn Ass, lame, scis-
sor-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! "

[30]

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 to-morrow the sea
shall cover her again as the Gods count that which men
call time. Can any say that this their bridge endures
till to-morrow? " said the Buck.

There was a long 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 there-
fore thou hast aided—"

[31]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" They toil as my armies toiled in Lanka, and they be-
lieve 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 in-
structed 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. ' ' To-morrow 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 please their Gods,"
said the Bull again.

" Not altogether," the Elephant rolled forth. " It is
for the profit of my mahajuns— my fat money-lenders
that worship me at each new year, when they draw my
image at the head of the account-books. I, looking over
their shoulders by lamplight, see that the names in the
books are those of men in far places— for all the towns
are drawn together by the fire-carriage, and the money
comes and goes swiftly, and the account-books grow as
fat as— myself . And I, who am Ganesh of Good Luck,
I bless my peoples. ' '

" They have changed the face of the land— which is
my land. They have killed and made new towns on my
banks," said the Mugger.

" It is but the shifting of a little dirt. Let the dirt
[32]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

dig in the dirt if it pleases the dirt," answered the
Elephant.

* ' But afterwards ? ' ' said the Tiger. * ' Afterwards they
will see that Mother Gunga can avenge no insult, and
they fall away from her first, and later from us all, one
by one. In the end, Ganesh, we are left with naked
altars."

The drunken Man staggered to his feet, and hiccupped
vehemently.

" Kali lies. My sister lies. Also this my stick is the
Kotwal of Kashi, and he keeps tally of my pilgrims.
When the time comes to worship Bhairon— and it is al-
ways time— the fire-carriages move one by one, and each
bears a thousand pilgrims. They do not come afoot any
more, but rolling upon wheels, and my honour is in-
creased."

" Gunga, I have seen thy bed at Pryag black with the
pilgrims," said the Ape, leaning forward, "and but
for the fire-carriage they would have come slowly and in
fewer numbers. Remember. ' '

" They come to me always," Bhairon went on thickly.
"By day and night they pray to me, all the Common
People in the fields and the roads. Who is like Bhairon
to-day? What talk is this of changing faiths? Is my
staff Kotwal of Kashi for nothing? He keeps the tally,
and he says that never were so many altars as to-day,
and the fire-carriage serves them well. Bhairon am I
—Bhairon of the Common People, and the chief est of
the Heavenly Ones to-day. Also my staff says—"

"Peace, thou!" lowed the Bull. "The worship of
the schools is mine, and they talk very wisely, asking
[33]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

whether I be one or many, as is the delight of my
people, and ye know what I am. Kali, my wife, thou
knowest also."

" Yea, I know," said the Tigress, with lowered head.

" Greater am I than Gunga also. For ye know who
moved the minds of men that they should count Gunga
holy among the rivers. Who die in that water— ye
know how men say— come to us without punishment,
and Gunga knows that the fire-carriage has borne to her
scores upon scores of such anxious ones ; and Kali knows
that she has held her chiefest festivals among the pil-
grimages that are fed by the fire-carriage. Who smote
at Pooree, under the Image there, her thousands in a
day and a night, and bound the sickness to the wheels
of the fire-carriages, so that it ran from one end of the
land to the other? Who but Kali? Before the fire-car-
riage came it was a heavy toil. The fire-carriages have
served thee well, Mother of Death. But I speak for
mine own altars, who am not Bhairon of the Common
Folk, but Shiv. Men go to and fro, making words and
telling talk of strange Gods, and I listen. Faith follows
faith among my people in the schools, and I have no
anger; for when all words are said, and the new talk is
ended, to Shiv men return at the last."

* ' True. It is true, ' ' murmured Hanuman. ' ' To Shiv
and to the others, mother, they return. I creep from
temple to temple in the North, where they worship one
God and His Prophet; and presently my image is alone
within their shrines."

"Small thanks," said the Buck, turning his head
slowly. " I am that One and His Proph«t also."
[34]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

"Even so, father," said Hanuman. "And to the
South I go who am the oldest of the Gods as men know
the Gods, and presently I touch the shrines of the New
Faith and the Woman whom we know is hewn twelve-
armed, and still they call her Mary."

"Small thanks, brother," said the Tigress. "I am
that Woman."

" Even so, sister; and I go West among the fire-car-
riages, and stand before the bridge-builders in many
shapes, and because of me they change their faiths and
are very wise. Ho I ho ! I am the builder of bridges, in-
deed—bridges between this and that, and each bridge
leads surely to Us in the end. Be content, Gunga.
Neither these men nor those that follow them mock
theeatall."

"Am I alone, then, Heavenly Ones? Shall I smooth
out my flood lest unhappily I bear away their walls?
Will Indra dry my springs in the hills and make me
crawl humbly between their wharfs ? Shall I bury me in
the sand ere I offend? "

"And all for the sake of a little iron bar with the fire-
carriage atop. Truly, Mother Gunga is always young ! ' '
said Ganesh the Elephant. "A child had not spoken
more foolishly. Let the dirt dig in the dirt ere it return
to the dirt. I know only that my people grow rich and
praise me. Shiv has said that the men of the schools do
not forget; Bhairon is content for his crowd of the Com-
mon People; and Hanuman laughs."

" Surely I laugh, ' ' said the Ape. * ' My altars are few
beside those of Ganesh or Bhairon, but the fire-carriages
bring me new worshippers from beyond the Black Water
[353

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

— the men who believe that their God is toil. I run be-
fore them beckoning, and they follow Hanuman. ' '

" Give them the toil that they desire, then," said the
River. " Make a bar across my flood and throw the
water back upon the bridge. Once thou wast strong in
Lanka, Hanuman. Stoop and lift my bed."

1 * Who gives life can take life. ' ' The Ape scratched in
the mud with a long forefinger. * ' And yet, who would
profit by the killing? Very many would die."

There came up from the water a snatch of a love-song
such as the boys sing when they watch their cattle in
the noon heats of late spring. The Parrot screamed
joyously, sidling along his branch with lowered head as
the song grew louder, and in a patch of clear moonlight
stood revealed the young herd, the darling of the Gopis,
the idol of dreaming maids and of mothers ere their chil-
dren are born — Krishna the Well-beloved. He stooped
to knot up his long wet hair, and the parrot fluttered
to his shoulder.

"Fleeting and singing, and singing and fleeting,"
hiccupped Bhairon. ' ' Those make thee late for the
council, brother."

"And then?" said Krishna, with a laugh, throwing
back his head. " Ye can do little without me or Karma
here." He fondled the Parrot's plumage and laughed
again. " What is this sitting and talking together? I
heard Mother Gunga roaring in the dark, and so came
quickly from a hut where I lay warm. And what have
ye done to Karma, that he is so wet and silent? And
what does Mother Gunga here? Are the heavens full
that ye must come paddling in the mud beast- wise?
Karma, what do they do? "

[36]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" Gunga has prayed for a vengeance on the bridge-
builders, and Kali is with her. Now she bids Hanuman
whelm the bridge, that her honour may be made great,"
cried the Parrot. " I waited here, knowing that thou
wouldst come, O my master! "

" And the Heavenly Ones said nothing? Did Gunga
and the Mother of Sorrows out-talk them? Did none
speak for my people? "

"Nay," said Ganesh, moving uneasily from foot to
foot; " I said it was but dirt at play, and why should we
stamp it flat?"

" I was content to let them toil— well content," said
Hanuman.

" What had I to do with Gunga' s anger?" said the
Bull.

" 1 am Bhairon of the Common Folk, and this my staff
is Kotwal of all Kashi. I spoke for the Common People. ' '

" Thou? " The young God's eyes sparkled.

" Am I not the first of the Gods in their mouths to-
day?" returned Bhairon, unabashed. "For the sake
of the Common People I said— very many wise things
which I have now forgotten, but this my staff—"

Krishna turned impatiently, saw the Mugger at his
feet, and kneeling, slipped an arm round the cold neck.
" Mother," he said gently, " get thee to thy flood again.
The matter is not for thee. What harm shall thy hon-
our take of this live dirt? Thou hast given them their
fields new year after year, and by thy flood they are
made strong. They come all to thee at the last. What
need to slay them now? Have pity, mother, for a little
—and it is only for a little."

"If it be only for a little—" the slow beast began.
[37]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

"Are they Gods, then?" Krishna returned with a
laugh, his eyes looking into the dull eyes of the River.
4 ' Be certain that it is only for a little. The Heavenly
Ones have heard thee, and presently justice will be done.
Go now, mother, to the flood again. Men and cattle are
thick on the waters— the banks fall — the villages melt
because of thee."

"But the bridge— the bridge stands." The Mugger
turned grunting into the undergrowth as Krishna rose.

4 ' It is ended," said the Tigress, viciously. " There is
no more justice from the Heavenly Ones. Ye have
made shame and sport of Gunga, who asked no more
than a few score lives."

" Of my people— who lie under the leaf -roofs of the
village yonder— of the young girls, and the young men
who sing to them in the dark— of the child that will be
born next morn— of that which was begotten to-night,"
said Krishna. " And when all is done, what profit?
To-morrow sees them at work. Ay, if ye swept the
bridge out from end to end they would begin anew.
Hear me ! Bhairon is drunk always. Hanuman mocks
his people with new riddles."

"Nay, but they are very old ones," the Ape said,
laughing.

" Shiv hears the talk of the schools and the dreams of
the holy men; Ganesh thinks only of his fat traders; but
I— I live with these my people, asking for no gifts, and
so receiving them hourly."

" And very tender art thou of thy people," said the
Tigress.

" They are my own. The old women dream of me
[38]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

turning in their sleep ; the maids look and listen for me
when they go to fill their lotahs by the river. I walk by
the young men waiting without the gates at dusk, and
I call over my shoulder to the white-beards. Ye know,
Heavenly Ones, that I alone of us all walk upon the earth
continually, and have no pleasure in our heavens so long
as a green blade springs here, or there are two voices at
twilight in the standing crops. Wise are ye, but ye live
far off, forgetting whence ye came. So do I not forget.
And the fire-carriage feeds your shrines, ye say? And
the fire-carriages bring a thousand pilgrims where but
ten came in the old years ? True. That is true, to-day. ' '

"But to-morrow they are dead, brother," said
Ganesh.

" Peace! " said the Bull, as Hanuman leaned forward
again. " And to-morrow, beloved— what of to-morrow? "

* ' This only. A new word creeping from mouth to
mouth among the Common Folk— a word that neither
man nor God can lay hold of —an evil word— a little lazy
word among the Common Folk, saying (and none know
who set that word afoot) that they weary of ye, Heav-
enly Ones."

The Gods laughed together softly. "And then, be-
loved?" they said.

" And to cover that weariness they, my people, will
bring to thee, Shiv, and to thee, Ganesh, at first greater
offerings and a louder noise of worship. But the word
has gone abroad, and, after, they will pay fewer dues to
your fat Brahmins. Next they will forget your altars,
but so slowly that no man can say how his f orgetfulness
began."

[39]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

" I knew— I knew! I spoke this also, but they would
not hear," said the Tigress. " We should have slain—
we should have slain ! ' '

"It is too late now. Ye should have slain at the be-
ginning when the men from across the water had taught
our folk nothing. Now my people see their work, and go
away thinking. They do not think of the Heavenly
Ones altogether. They think of the fire-carriage and
the other things that the bridge-builders have done, and
when your priests thrust forward hands asking alms,
they give a little unwillingly. That is the beginning,
among one or two, or five or ten— for I, moving among
my people, know what is in their hearts."

" And the end, Jester of the Gods? What shall the
end be? " said Ganesh.

" The end shall be as it was in the beginning, 0 sloth-
ful son of Shiv ! The flame shall die upon the altars and
the prayer upon the tongue till ye become little Gods
again— Gods of the jungle— names that the hunters of
rats and noosers of dogs whisper in the thicket and
among the caves — rag-Gods, pot Godlings of the tree,
and the village-mark, as ye were at the beginning. That
is the end, Ganesh, for thee, and for Bhairon— Bhairon
of the Common People."

" It is very far away," grunted Bhairon. " Also, it
is a lie."

" Many women have kissed Krishna. They told him
this to cheer their own hearts when the grey hairs came,
and he has told us the tale," said the Bull, below his
breath.

4 * Their Gods came, and we changed them. I took the
[40]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Woman and made her twelve-armed. So shall we twist
all their Gods, ' ' said Hanuman.

" Their Gods! This is no question of their Gods— one
or three— man or woman. The matter is with the
people. They move, and not the Gods of the bridge-
builders," said Krishna.

4 ' So be it. I have made a man worship the fire-car-
riage as it stood still breathing smoke, and he knew not
that he worshipped me, ' ' said Hanuman the Ape. * ' They
will only change a little the names of their Gods. I shall
lead the builders of the bridges as of old ; Shiv shall be
worshipped in the schools by such as doubt and despise
their fellows; Ganesh shall have his mahajuns, and
Bhairon the donkey-drivers, the pilgrims, and the sellers
of toys. Beloved, they will do no more than change the
names, and that we have seen a thousand times."

* * Surely they will do no more than change the names, ' '
echoed Ganesh; but there was an uneasy movement
among the Gods.

" They will change more than the names. Me alone
they cannot kill, so long as a maiden and a man meet
together or the spring follows the winter rains. Heav-
enly Ones, not for nothing have I walked upon the earth.
My people know not now what they know; but I, who
live with them, I read their hearts. Great Kings, the
beginning of the end is born already. The fire-carriages
shout the names of new Gods that are not the old under
new names. Drink now and eat greatly! Bathe your
faces in the smoke of the altars before they grow cold !
Take dues and listen to the cymbals and the drums,
Heavenly Ones, while yet there are flowers and songs.
[41]

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As men count time the end is far off; but as we who
know reckon it is to-day. I have spoken. ' '

The young God ceased, and his brethren looked at each
other long in silence.

" This I have not heard before," Peroo whispered in
his companion's ear. "And yet sometimes, when I
oiled the brasses in the engine-room of the Goorkha, I
have wondered if our priests were so wise— so wise.
The day is coming, Sahib. They will be gone by the
morning."

A yellow light broadened in the sky, and the tone of
the river changed as the darkness withdrew.

Suddenly the Elephant trumpeted aloud as though
man had goaded him.

" Let Indra judge. Father of all, speak thou! What
of the things we have heard? Has Krishna lied in-
deed? Or-"

" Ye know," said the Buck, rising to his feet. " Ye
know the Riddle of the Gods. When Brahm ceases to
dream, the Heavens and the Hells and Earth disappear.
Be content. Brahm dreams still. The dreams come and
go, and the nature of the dreams changes, but still
Brahm dreams. Krishna has walked too long upon
earth, and yet I love him the more for the tale he has
told. The Gods change, beloved— all save One! "

" Ay, all save one that makes love in the hearts of
men," said Krishna, knotting his girdle. " It is but a
little time to wait, and ye shall know if I lie."

" Truly it is but a little time, as thou sayest, and we
shall know. Get thee to thy huts again, beloved, and
make sport for the young things, for still Brahm dreams.
[42]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Go, my children! Brahm dreams— and till he wakes
the Gods die not."

**********

" Whither went they? " said the Lascar, awe-struck,
shivering a little with the cold.

" God knows! " said Findlayson. The river and the
island lay in full daylight now, and there was never
mark of hoof or pug on the wet earth under the peepul.
Only a parrot screamed in the branches, bringing down
showers of water-drops as he fluttered his wings.

"Up! We are cramped with cold! Has the opium
died out? Canst thou move, Sahib? "

Findlayson staggered to his feet and shook himself.
His head swam and ached, but the work of the opium
was over, and, as he sluiced his forehead in a pool, the
Chief Engineer of the Kashi Bridge was wondering how
he had managed to fall upon the island, what chances
the day offered of return, and, above all, how his work
stood.

"Peroo, I have forgotten much. I was under the
guard-tower watching the river; and then. . . . Did
the flood sweep us away?"

"No. The boats broke loose, Sahib, and" (if the
Sahib had forgotten about the opium, decidedly Peroo
would not remind him) " in striving to re tie them, so it
seemed to me— but it was dark— a rope caught the Sahib
and threw him upon a boat. Considering that we two,
with Hitchcock Sahib, built, as it were, that bridge, I
came also upon the boat, which came riding on horse-
back, as it were, on the nose of this island, and so, split-
ting, cast us ashore. I made a great cry when the boat
[43]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

left the wharf, and without doubt Hitchcock Sahib will
come for us. As for the bridge, so many have died in the
building that it cannot fall."

A fierce sun, that drew out all the smell of the
sodden land, had followed the storm, and in that clear
light there was no room for a man to think of the dreams
of the dark. Findlayson stared up-stream, across the
blaze of moving water, till his eyes ached. There was
no sign of any bank to the Ganges, much less of a bridge-
line.

" We came down far," he said. " It was wonderful
that we were not drowned a hundred times. ' '

u That was the least of the wonder, for no man dies
before his tune. I have seen Sydney, I have seen Lon-
don, and twenty great ports, but "— Peroo looked at the
damp, discoloured shrine under the peepul— " never man
has seen that we saw here."

"What?"

' ' Has the Sahib forgotten ; or do we black men only
see the Gods? "

" There was a fever upon me." Findlayson was still
looking uneasily across the water. ' ' It seemed that the
island was full of beasts and men talking, but I do not
remember. A boat could live in this water now, I think. ' '

' ' Oho ! Then it is true. ' When Brahm ceases to dream,
the Gods die.' Now I know, indeed, what he meant.
Once, too, the guru said as much to me; but then I did
not understand. Now I am wise."

" What? " said Findlayson, over his shoulder.

Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself. " Six
—seven— ten monsoons since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle
[44]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

of the Rewdh— the Kumpani's big boat— and there was
a big tufan; green and black water beating, and I held
fast to the life-lines, choking under the waters. Then I
thought of the Gods— of Those whom we saw to-night "
—he stared curiously at Findlayson's back, but the
white man was looking across the flood. " Yes, I say
of Those whom we saw this night past, and I called upon
Them to protect me. And while I prayed, still keeping
my lookout, a big wave came and threw me forward
upon the ring of the great black bow-anchor, and the
Rewdh rose high and high, leaning towards the left-hand
side, and the water drew away from beneath her nose,
and I lay upon my belly, holding the ring, and looking
down into those great deeps. Then I thought, even in
the face of death : If I lose hold I die, and for me neither
the Rewdh nor my place by the galley where the rice is
cooked, nor Bombay, nor Calcutta, nor even London,
will be any more for me. * How shall I be sure, ' I said,
' that the Gods to whom I pray will abide at all? ' This
I thought, and the Rewdh dropped her nose as a ham-
mer falls, and all the sea came in and slid me back-
wards along the fo'c'sle and over the break of the
fo'c'sle, and I very badly bruised my shin against the
donkey-engine: but I did not die, and I have seen
the Gods. They are good for live men, but for the
dead . . . They have spoken Themselves. Therefore,
when I come to the village I will beat the guru for
talking riddles which are no riddles. When Brahm
ceases to dream the Gods go."

" Look up-stream. The light blinds. Is there smoke
yonder? "

[45]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Peroo shaded his eyes with his hands. " He is a wise
man and quick. Hitchcock Sahib would not trust a
rowboat. He has borrowed the Rao Sahib's steam-
launch, and comes to look for us. I have always said
that there should have been a steam-launch on the bridge
works for us."

The territory of the Rao of Baraon lay within ten miles
of the bridge ; and Findlayson and Hitchcock had spent
a fair portion of their scanty leisure in playing billiards
and shooting black-buck with the young man. He had
been bear-led by an English tutor of sporting tastes for
some five or six years, and was now royally wasting
the revenues accumulated during his minority by the
Indian Government. His steam-launch, with its silver-
plated rails, striped silk awning, and mahogany decks,
was a new toy which Findlayson had found horribly
in the way when the Rao came to look at the bridge
works.

" It 's great luck," murmured Findlayson, but he was
none the less afraid, wondering what news might be of
the bridge.

The gaudy blue and white funnel came down-stream
swiftly. They could see Hitchcock in the bows, with
a pan* of opera-glasses, and his face was unusually
white. Then Peroo hailed, and the launch made for
the tail of the island. The Rao Sahib, in tweed shoot-
ing-suit and a seven-hued turban, waved his royal
hand, and Hitchcock shouted. But he need have asked
no questions, for Findlayson's first demand was for his
bridge.

" All serene ! 'Gad, I never expected to see you again,
[46]

THE BRIDGE-BUILDERS

Findlayson. You 're seven koss down-stream. Yes;
there 's not a stone shifted anywhere; but how are you?
I borrowed the Rao Sahib's launch, and he was good
enough to come along. Jump in. ' '

"Ah, Finlinson, you are very well, eh? That was
most unprecedented calamity last night, eh? My royal
palace, too, it leaks like the devil, and the crops will
also be short all about my country. Now you shall
back her out, Hitchcock . I — I do not understand steam-
engines. You are wet? You are cold, Finlinson? I
have some things to eat here, and you will take a good
drink."

" I 'm immensely grateful, Rao Sahib. I believe
you 've saved my life. How did Hitchcock—"

" Oho! His hair was upon end. He rode to me in
the middle of the night and woke me up in the arms of
Morpheus. I was most truly concerned, Finlinson, so I
came too. My head-priest he is very angry just now.
We will go quick, Mister Hitchcock. I am due to attend
at twelve forty-five in the state temple, where we
sanctify some new idol. If not so I would have asked
you to spend the day with me. They are dam-bore,
these religious ceremonies, Finlinson, eh? "

Peroo, well known to the crew, had possessed himself
of the inlaid wheel, and was taking the launch craftily
up-stream. But while he steered he was, in his mind,
handling two feet of partially untwisted wire-rope; and
the back upon which he beat was the back cf his guru.

[47]

A WALKING DELEGATE

A WALKING DELEGATE

ACCORDING to the custom of Vermont, Sunday after-
JLJL noon is salting-time on the farm, and, unless some-
thing very important happens, we attend to the salting
ourselves. Dave and Pete, the red oxen, are treated
first; they stay in the home meadow ready for work on
Monday. Then come the cows, with Pan, the calf, who
should have been turned into veal long ago, but survived
on account of his manners; and lastly the horses, scat-
tered through the seventy acres of the Back Pasture.

You must go down by the brook that feeds the click-
ing, bubbling water-ram; up through the sugar-bush,
where the young maple undergrowth closes round you
like a shallow sea; next follow the faint line of an old
county-road running past two green hollows fringed
with wild rose that mark the cellars of two ruined
houses; then by Lost Orchard, where nobody ever
comes except in cider- time; then across another brook,
and so into the Back Pasture. Half of it is pine and
hemlock and spruce, with sumach and little juniper-
bushes, and the other half is grey rock and boulder and
moss, with green streaks of brake and swamp; but the