With these passed the
lights and the shouting, and Wali Dad began to swear under his breath.
From Fort Amara shot up a single rocket; then two side by side. It was
the signal for troops.
Petitt, the Deputy Commissioner, covered with dust and sweat, but calm
and gently smiling, cantered up the clean-swept street in rear of the
main body of the rioters. 'No one killed yet,' he shouted. 'I'll keep
'em on the run till dawn! Don't let 'em halt, Hugonin! Trot 'em about
till the troops come.'
The science of the defence lay solely in keeping the mob on the move.
If they had breathing-space they would halt and fire a house, and then
the work of restoring order would be more difficult, to say the least
of it. Flames have the same effect on a crowd as blood has on a wild
beast.
Word had reached the Club and men in evening-dress were beginning to
show themselves and lend a hand in heading off and breaking up the
shouting masses with stirrup-leathers, whips, or chance-found staves.
They were not very often attacked, for the rioters had sense enough
to know that the death of a European would not mean one hanging but
many, and possibly the appearance of the thrice-dreaded Artillery.
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