The council had been summoned to meet on the morning following that of the incidents related in the last chapter, and the members were now accordingly assembling, soon after breakfast, at the Proprietary mansion. The arrival of one or two gentlemen on horseback with their servants, added somewhat to the bustle of the stable yard, which was already the scene of that kind of busy idleness and lounging occupation so agreeable to the menials of a large establishment. Here, in one quarter, a few noisy grooms were collected around the watering troughs, administering the discipline of the curry-comb or the wash bucket to some half score of horses. In a corner of the yard Dick Pagan the courier and Willy o' the Flats, with the zeal of amateur vagrants, were striving to cozen each other out of their coppers at the old game of Cross and Pile; whilst, in an opposite direction, Derrick was exhibiting to a group of spectators, amongst whom the young heir apparent was a prominent personage, a new set of hawk bells just brought by the Olive Branch from Dort, and lecturing, with a learned gravity, upon their qualities, to the infinite edification and delight of his youthful pupil. Slouching fox hounds, thick-lipped mastiffs and wire-haired terriers mingled indiscriminately amongst these groups, as if confident of that favouritism which is the universal privilege of the canine race amongst good tempered persons and contented idlers all the world over. Whilst the inhabitants of the yard were engrossed with these occupations, a trumpet was heard at a distance in the direction of the town. The blast came so feebly upon the ear as, at first, to pass unregarded, but being repeated at short intervals, and at every repetition growing louder, it soon arrested the general attention, and caused an inquiry from all quarters into the meaning of so unusual an incident. "Fore God, I think that there be an alarm of Indians in the town!" exclaimed the falconer as he spread his hand behind his ear and listened for some moments, with a solemn and portentous visage. "Look to it, lads--there may be harm afoot. Put up thy halfpence, Dick Pagan, and run forward to seek out the cause of this trumpeting. I will wager it means mischief, masters." "Indians!" said Willy; "Derrick's five wits have gone on a fool's errand ever since the murder of that family at the Zachaiah fort by the salvages. If the Indians were coming you should hear three guns from Master Randolph Brandt's look-out on the Notley road. It is more likely there may be trouble at the gaol with the townspeople, for there was a whisper afloat yesterday concerning a rescue of the prisoners. Troth, the fellow has a lusty breath who blows that trumpet!" "Ay, and the trumpet," said Derrick, "is not made to dance with, masters: there is war and throat-cutting in it, or I am no true man."