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."

Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
too. It was vividly sanguinary, and en