Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of Retief—only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical—had gone to bed over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.
Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but, with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk morning air.
The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.
He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to meet him.
"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"
There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted, thoroughly ill.
"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're safe here?"
"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about Lablache?"
Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw "Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards him.
"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have let themselves, and us, in for."