“Ah, I wonder too,” said Mrs Morley.
“Hope the poor beggar isn’t much hurt. But Mr Stripes’ claws are rather ugly things. Ah, well, lucky for him that he’s got a Doctor Morley to call into the wilderness. Hullo! Footsteps! What did I tell you? Here they come! In a hurry, too.”
But the distant sound of steps was not duplicated. They were those of one only, coming at a rapid rate; and directly after the Resident dashed open the garden gate.
“What’s this I hear?” he cried excitedly. “The boat not back?”
He listened for a few moments to Mrs Morley’s once more excited words; but he half-interrupted her before she had done, by exclaiming:
“Here they come! I have told the Major, and he is turning out the men. For Heaven’s sake, Mrs Morley, try and be calm.”
“I am trying, Sir Charles. But my husband absent! How can I look him in the face when he comes back?”
“Oh, hush, hush!” whispered the Resident, pressing her hand so hard that she could hardly bear it.
“You are taking the very blackest view of the matter. It may be a trifle—one of the poles broken, or they may have ventured too far.”
“Don’t talk, pray,” said Mrs Morley. “Never mind me. Do something! Act!”