The long-
threatened holocaust had come, and he had to act, to smite, to strike
sure and swift at the festering root of things, or Central India
was lost.
But his hands were tied still. He knew. He could see. He could
feel. He could hear. But he had his orders. That very morning they
had been repeated to him, and with emphasis. In a letter from the
Council he had been told that "slight disturbances, of a purely local
character, were not without the bounds of possibility, due partly
to religious unrest and partly to local causes. Under no circumstances
were any extended reprisals to be undertaken until further orders,
and generals commanding districts were required to keep the bulk of
their commands within cantonments."
The countryside was up. All India probably was up. His own men,
set by himself to watch with one definite idea, had confirmed his
worst fears. And he was under orders to stay with the bulk of his
command in Bholat! Corked up in cantonments, with three thousand
first-class fighting-men squealing for trouble, and red rebellion
running riot all around him though it might be quelled by instant action!
And then worse happened.
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