Then, without any warning, broke the storm--not only in the Gully of
the Horsemen, but in half a dozen other places. The _tazias_ rocked
like ships at sea, the long pole-torches dipped and rose round them
while the men shouted: 'The Hindus are dishonouring the _tazias!_
Strike! Strike! Into their temples for the faith!' The six or eight
Policemen with each _tazia_ drew their batons, and struck as long as
they could in the hope of forcing the mob forward, but they were
overpowered, and as contingents of Hindus poured into the streets, the
fight became general. Half a mile away where the _tazias_ were yet
untouched the drums and the shrieks of '_Ya Hasanl Ya Hussain!_'
continued, but not for long. The priests at the corners of the streets
knocked the legs from the bedsteads that supported their pulpits and
smote for the Faith, while stones fell from the silent houses upon
friend and foe, and the packed streets bellowed: '_Din! Din! Din!_'
A _tazia_ caught fire, and was dropped for a flaming barrier between
Hindu and Musalman at the corner of the Gully. Then the crowd surged
forward, and Wali Dad drew me close to the stone pillar of a well.
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