"The trouble begins," he said, as he rose and hastened into the hallway.
Another shot rang out. He caught up his wide felt hat, reached for a
great walking-stick in the corner, and left the house hurriedly.
CHAPTER XVI
THE MAYOR FILLS AN OFFICE
It was a false alarm which had startled Gabriel Druse, but it had
significance. The Orange funeral was not to take place until eleven
o'clock, and it was only eight o'clock when the Ry left his home. A
rifle-shot had, however, been fired across the Sagalac from the Manitou
side, and it had been promptly acknowledged from Lebanon. There was a
short pause, and then came another from the Lebanon side. It was merely a
warning and a challenge. The only man who could have controlled the
position was blind and helpless.
As Druse walked rapidly towards the bridge, he met Jowett. Jowett was one
of the few men in either town for whom the Ry had regard, and the
friendliness had had its origin in Jowett's knowledge of horseflesh. This
was a field in which the Ry was himself a master. He had ever been too
high-placed among his own people to trade and barter horses except when,
sending a score of Romanys on a hunt for wild ponies on the hills of
Eastern Europe, he had afterwards sold the tamed herd to the highest
bidders in some Balkan town; but he had an infallible eye for a horse.
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