Impelled with steps unceasing to pursue
Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle, bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, and, as I follow, flies.

GOLDSMITH.

Whenever Tom Gladding and Primus put their heads together, it was pretty certain that there was some mischief afoot, and a few words of the conversation, which we overhear, as they walk down the street in company, leave no doubt on the subject.

“You see, Prime,” said Gladding, “the foolish fellow ain’t cured yet.”

“Let us insult ober his case,” said Primus.

“I thought he’d got enough; but, he’s as parvarse as the nine lives of a cat. Why, there was the whack at the island, and, then, the jam on the ice, and, last, the scare in the snowstorm; a fellow’s unreasonable to want more, and, yet, the darn’d crittur’s holding out his platter.”

“What you want to put in, Missa Gladding?”

“Some of the same mess. I don’t care about hurting him; but, I should like to cure him of his parsecuting ways.”

“Well, you is a good cook. What you up to dis time?” said the General, grinning at the idea of more tricks.

“Colored people is celebrated for their contrivances; so, scratch your wool, and give us the benefit of your genius.”

“De sheep hab no gumption,” said Primus, looking grave at this allusion to his hair.

“I tell you what I want you to do,” said Tom, taking no notice of Primus’ gravity, and certain that the old fellow was unable to resist the temptation to a frolic; “but, don’t let’s stand here all day talking. Folks may suspicion something; so, push along, and I’ll give you my idées.”

They must have pleased the General, for, soon, his face began to brighten, and his eyes to glisten; and he parted from his companion, apparently, with the best understanding, and in the highest good humor possible.

In accordance with the arrangement between them, the negro hunted up Basset, and soon learned from him, that he had a mittimus to commit Holden. The cunning fellow, at first, pretended to dissuade him from making use of it, taking care, at the same time, to drop a few words, from which, it might be inferred, there was no difficulty in apprehending the fugitive. He, at last, let out the fact, rather unwillingly, as it seemed, that the Recluse was in the habit of passing his hut, in the evening, on visits as the General supposed to his friends in the village. The constable caught at the bait, and, having lost all fear of any resistance, on the part of the Solitary, persuaded Primus, with some difficulty, to allow him to watch at his cabin, for his prey; engaging his assistance, at the same time, should it become necessary. It was, accordingly, agreed, that the same night should be devoted to enforce the demands of justice.

Just before the shades of evening shut in, Basset agreeably to the preconcerted plan, presented himself at the hut of the General, and took his station at the window that commanded, for quite a distance, a view of the road. The moon was shining, and her beams, reflected from the snow, made it easy to distinguish objects. The constable sighed, as he took his seat, and declared that, in all his experience, he never had so much difficulty in his legal business. It was the General’s cue to encourage his visitor, and keep up his resolution. He, therefore, said, in a cheerful tone

“Folks say, dere is nebber no lane but hab one turn. Now, dis is de turn. See, how de road twist round my house. Dat is a good sign.”

“If I don’t git him this time,” said Basset, “I guess I might as well give it up, and the State of Connecticut may just be reckoned beat.”

“Don’t ground you arms yet, Missa Basset. In de long run, de raal grit allers carry de day.”

“When I think it all over,” said the constable, musing, “it seems kind o’ queer. I’m sort o’ bewitched, and, if the days of witches wasn’t gone by, I shouldn’t wonder if some of them hadn’t got me in tow. But, I ain’t going to give it up yet. I don’t forget the old chap’s knocking me down in the dark behind my back, as though I’d been no better than a woodchuck or a skunk.”

“How it feel, Missa Basset?” inquired Primus, with a grin. “Did de old man strike wid de soft side or de hard side ob de cudgel?”

“You needn’t show your ivory,” said the constable, whom the remembrance of his misfortune irritated; “I wish to conscience you’d felt it yourself; you’d have known, then, without the need of asking questions.”

“Golly! Missa Basset,” exclaimed Primus. “You tink nobody hab feeling but yousef. You gib my arm sich a winch when de olé man kick you behind, or knock you ober (I nebber know which) dat I feel him now.”

“He didn’t kick me,” said Basset, indignantly. “’Twas a regular assault with a club, I tell you.”

“Well, I shouldn’t like sich salt on my shoulder, aldo dey say, salt bery good to keep de wound from catching cold.”

“I tell you what, darkey,” cried the constable, losing patience at the other’s sneers. “You talk like an old fool. If you hain’t got anything pleasanter to say, you might as well shut up.”

“Yes, I be an old fool,” said Primus, as if speaking to himself, “and dis is all de tank I git from dis white man. I depose my life on de ribber. I git a’most murdered when de ghost kick him behind; he break my leg made out ob a good piece ob ash; I invite him to my house, like a gen’leman, and de civilest word I get, is darkey and old fool. Yes, Primus, you complexion is dark, and you be a big fool.”

“Don’t take on so, Prime,” said Basset; “I spoke rash, and I ask your pardon. But, what’s the use of aggravating a man in that way!”

“I tink you must ’scuse my keeping company wid you, arter to-night,” continued Primus, looking steadily into the fire, and knitting his brows; “I nebber get noting but bad luck in his sarvice. Next time, I git my neck broke, and den ’tis all done wid dis poor niggur. De carpenter find hard work to make one to fit.”

“Now, Prime,” said Basset, “you’re rather too hard. I asked your pardon, and that’s all a man can do. I’m sure I didn’t mean to set you agoing at this rate.”

“It bery easy, Massa Basset, to say I ask you pardon, and bery polite for a white man to say it to a colored pusson, but does dat pay for de breaking ob a leg or de setting ob my neck?”

“What did it cost to mend your leg?”

“I gib Fannin, de carpenter, a halb dollar for a new one dat wasn’t half so good as de olé one.”

“Well, I vow, that’s considerable for an old stick, ’cause I know there wasn’t no new iron work about it, for you had the old ferule left; but seeing as how I broke it, I’ll split the difference with you, so there’s a quarter. But why didn’t you speak of it afore?”

“’Cause,” said Primus, taking the money with eyes brightening at the sight, “’tween gen’lemen, de trifle was too small.”

“Well, you’re a curious chap. Now most folks would have dunned me right off for the damage. There’s Tom Gladding’, if he had a wooden leg, and I broke it, don’t you suppose he’d make me settle before sunset next day? Besides the law was all on your side.”

“I guess, Massa Gladding ’tend to business in his own way,” said the now good-humored General, “but you, Squire, is an old ’quaintance, and you disappointment so great, I didn’t like to mention de leg.”

As soon as Primus uttered the word “Squire,” Basset knew that the reconciliation between them was complete. The General never used the word in reference to his companion, except when pleased and desirous to pay a compliment, and was fully aware of the effect it produced. The constable, born and bred among a people fond of titles, and fond of giving them, was not exempt from the common weakness. He, however, thought it incumbent on him to disclaim the dignity, to which Primus answered, that if he were not a Squire he ought to be, and would be next year.

A tall figure, which, from the gait and dress, appeared to be that of Holden, was now seen approaching deliberately in the moonlight, and the constable addressed himself to the performance of his duty. It was thought best to allow the fugitive to pass the cabin, so that in the event of an attempt at evasion, which was not anticipated indeed, but which the prudent General thought ought to be guarded against, the difficulty of escape might be greater. As the man advanced, the constable was certain it was Holden. There was the long beard falling on his breast, and the grey frock girt with a sash; and had not the cap been pulled down low over his forehead, even the features might have been distinguishable.

After the person had passed, Basset cautiously opened the door and quietly stole after him, but, in spite of every precaution, it was impossible to move without making a sound on the crisp snow, easily heard in the still night. The person heard it, and turning his head, beheld the constable two or three rods in the rear. Basset observing him look round, quickened his pace, and advanced confidently to make the capture; but in the same proportion the figure hastened his steps. Thereupon the constable increased his speed, in which he was imitated by the other, until both pursuer and pursued were in a run.

It was now who should run the fastest. The race had hitherto been in the road, and Basset was evidently gaining on the fugitive, when, turning short, the latter jumped over some bars which had been left down, and directed his course across a field. The constable’s blood was up, and without hesitation, he followed, every moment lessening the distance between himself and the chase. He could not help, as he ran, wondering at the agility of Holden, from whom, on account of his seeming age, he had not anticipated such activity, and ascribed it now to his greater length of limb, and habit of constant exercise and exposure. And now he was within a few feet of him, and extending his arm to place his hand on the captive’s shoulder, when suddenly the ground gave way under his feet, and he was precipitated to an unknown depth, while the snow came tumbling down upon his head, blinding and covering him up, so as to leave him at first in total darkness. The astonished and confused constable, by dint of struggling and floundering about, succeeded at length in disencumbering himself of the superincumbent load of snow and cornstalks, and was able to form an idea of his situation. He found himself in a large hole, at a depth of six or seven feet below the surface of the ground, to escape from which every effort proved fruitless. In vain the entrapped Basset sprung up the sides again and again, and grasped at the snow, in hope to catch hold of some object on which to retain a hold; it yielded to his hands, and every time he fell back more and more exhausted. He endeavored to attract assistance by shouting, but it seemed as if his voice mounted no higher than to the top of the hole. He looked up. Nothing was to be seen but the moon gazing sadly upon him, and the stars winking at him their glittering eyes. Frightened and vexed, he threw himself upon the bottom of the hole, then got up, and dashing down his cap, stamped upon it in ungovernable rage, vowing vengeance against the traitor, Primus, who, he did not doubt, had led him into the snare. At first the violent exercise, and next vexation and resentment, kept him warm; but gradually the effect of the first passed off, and then the latter, without its aid, was found ineffectual to ward off the cold. The teeth of poor Basset began to chatter, and tears of anger and apprehension fell from his eyes. He started up, and again tried the walls of his prison, but they were too steep, and too slippery, to permit exit, and at last, with desperate calmness, he resigned himself to his fate, and awaited such result as Providence might send. The thought of starvation and freezing to death passed through his mind, but he was too fully convinced of the complicity of the black to believe he was ignorant of his condition, and satisfied that, however tricky, he intended no serious harm. There was comfort in the thought, and as these reflections prevailed he became more composed, while a sense of shame succeeded to that of despair. Shrugging himself together to keep warm, and lifting up his voice from time to time in a shout, if, perchance, some casual wayfarer might catch the sound, the constable waited for deliverance.

Meanwhile, Gladding, for it was no other, who personated the Solitary, and the General were cozily seated by the fire in the hut of the latter, discussing the events of the evening. The false beard was lying on a chair, and a large stone pitcher, containing cider, was placed near the centre of a table, on which the elbow of Tom was leaning, who, from time to time, replenished a mug with the liquor, which made frequent journeys to his mouth. The old General, with his pipe, was seated on the other side of the table, and appeared as fervent in his devotions to the pitcher as his guest.

“I tell you what, Prime,” said Tom, “I come plaguy nigh tumbling in myself. I thought I marked the spot exactly, but somehow or other the snow light sort o’ blinded me, and I stepped right on the edge, and had to spring for’t like all natur’.”

“Dat would a been fust rate, to catch two fox in one trap,” said the General, the whites of whose eyes gleamed plainer than ever in the fire light at the thought.

“Fun for you, but not for me by a long chalk. Basset would have the best on’t, too, for he’d have come right top on me. How the crittur would have crowed!”

“I hear him crow two or tree time already,” said Primus, who had been to the door several times, and could detect faint sounds whenever the imprisoned Basset shouted.

“Let him try his lungs a little longer. It will clear his voice for singing school. I guess I must go to meeting next Sabbath, if for nothing else, to hear him perform.”

“But I ’fraid de poor man freeze,” said the compassionate General.

“Never fear, ’twon’t hurt him. It will do him good to freeze some of the ugliness out of him. Besides it’s best to wait awhile. Perhaps, somebody coming along will help him out, and that will save you the trouble.”

“Me! Missa Gladding! what hab I to do wid it? You put him dere, and you is de one to pull him out.”

“Don’t be onreasonable, Prime, now. You see, if I should go, he’d know, of course, all about it. Why, he’d recollect the clothes, and next thing I should be took up for assault and battery.”

“And who save me from being took up?”

“O, there ain’t no danger of that. They can’t git no hold on ye. You can say you hearn crying for help, and didn’t know but what Holden had turned on him, and so come to assist.”

Primus shook his head dubiously. He hardly knew what to reply, yet was evidently disinclined to the adventure. For that reason, perhaps, he allowed Basset to remain in durance longer than his own good-nature prompted, in the hope that relief might arrive from some other quarter.

“I vow,” at last exclaimed Gladding, “if I don’t believe you’re afraid Basset will give you a licking.”

“Basset, nor no oder man, ebber see de day nor night to make me ’fraid,” said the valorous General, whose natural courage was a little stimulated by the cider he had been drinking, starting up and preparing for his expedition. “But, Missa Gladding, you promise to stand by me if dis scrape go any furder.”

“Sartainly,” answered Tom, “I never left a friend in the lurch, I tell you.”

“Gib us you hand on dat.”

Tom extended a great sledge-hammer fist, and the two shook hands in sign of inviolable fidelity.

“Now,” said Tom, “I guess, I’ll make myself scarce. I wouldn’t have him see me in this rig for all the cider I drank to-night. There’s some left in the old pitcher, so fetch him along, and comfort the critter’s heart with a few swigs.”

With these words, Tom took his leave, first altering somewhat the disposition of his garments, divesting himself of the sash, placing the cap higher on his brows, and depositing the false beard in his pocket, while Primus, lighting a fresh pipe, sallied forth on his errand of benevolence.

As he approached he could hear plainer the halloo which Basset occasionally emitted from his trap. The ears of the latter sharpened by expectation, caught the sound of the advancing steps, while as yet the deliverer was at too great a distance to see the hole, and his cries for assistance were redoubled.

“Help!” he cried, “help! They want to murder me. This way here, in the old well this way O, Lord!”

Such were the cries that saluted the ears of Primus, as soon as he was near enough to distinguish articulate sounds.

“Who dere?” cried the General.

“O, Prime, help us out of this tarnation hole,” groaned Basset.

“Onpossible! can dis be you, Missa Basset?” inquired Primus, peering over the edge of the pit. “How come you dere?”

“Don’t ask no questions, now, though, I guess, you know as well as me.”

“His head turn wid de scare, probumbly,” soliloquized Primus, loud enough to be heard by the captive. “I curus to larn how you fall in. Ebberybody know dis hole, Missa Basset.”

“Haul me out, and I’ll let you know.”

There was something in the tone of voice that did not at all please the General, so looking around, and observing no one in sight, for it was a lonely place, and having all the advantage on his side, he resolved to parley, and secure satisfactory terms before he delivered the prisoner.

“I bery sorry for you, Missa Basset,” he said, “and if you wait awhile, I go to de village to git a rope to haul you out.”

But this proposition was far from suiting the constable. Now that assistance was near at hand, he dreaded to lose it out of sight or hearing. He knew there was no necessity for procuring any rope, and feared that if Primus put his threatened plan into execution, he would bring along with him a rabble of men and boys, to jeer at and ridicule his sufferings. This now seemed worse than all he had already endured; he was, therefore, willing to make any compromise to avert the disaster.

“Don’t go, don’t go, Prime,” begged the constable. “Just give us your hand, and pull us out of this infarnal place. There’s no need of any rope.”

“But suppose you pull me in arter you, what we do den? De fire would be all in de fat. Beside, you talk as if you respect me. No, I tink I be safer if oder folks be here, too.”

“O, Prime,” whined Basset, “you hain’t no better friend in the world than me, and no more bowels of marcy than a stump. I tell ye, I don’t suspect you. Lend us a hand, and I’ll never forget it, the longest day I have to live.”

“Well,” said the General, “you must make us a promise, fust.”

“What promise? I’ll make any promise you please, only do help us out. I’m ’most dead with cold.”

“You must promise nebber to say any ting about dis night. Dere’s ’spicious folks round, like de doctor, and when dey hear you git catch like a rat in a trap, dey is likely to say, ’Ah, dat is dat old niggur Primus’s work,’ and so I lose my good character. De innocent man must be like de weasel dat is nebber catch asleep.”

It went hard against the grain, for the constable to make the promise, but there was no alternative except remaining there, he knew not how long, finally to be extricated by a laughing crowd. With a very ill grace, therefore, he promised all that Primus required, and would have bound himself to ten times more, if necessary; but the General was generous, and asked only security for the future, having no indemnity to demand for the past. Planting his sound foot firmly in the snow, the General extended his hand, which being grasped by Basset, he was soon delivered from thraldom.

“What’s to hender me now, you infernal darkey,” exclaimed the exasperated constable, as soon as he found himself in the upper air, “from throwing you into the well, and letting you rot there!”

“What to hender, Missa Basset?” returned the General, stepping back. “You own feelings, Missa Basset. But you can try it if you please,” he added, letting fall his arms by his sides, which, at the threatening tone of the constable, he had raised instinctively in self-defence.

But the other seemed more disposed to allow his anger to explode in words than to resort to violence.

“To be chucked into a hole like a dead cat, by a cunning old wool head, was more’n mortal man could bear,” he said, “and he didn’t know why he shouldn’t knock out his black brains, on the spot.”

“You can try de ’speriment, if you please,” said Primus, cooly, “and when dey is knock out, I advise you to gadder dem up for you own use.”

“You’re a saacy nigger,” said Basset, “and if I sarved you right, I’d clap you into the workhouse.”

“Missa Basset, you bery mad; and when a man is mad, he always onreasonable. But fire away it keep you warm, and stop you catching cold.”

“Onreasonable! when a fellow’s been sprawling about in snow and cornstalks, for more’n two hours, and got more’n half froze! How would you like it?”

“If Missa Basset chase Missa Holden, in de moonlight, and fall into a hole, is I to blame?”

“I don’t believe it was Holden. I believe it was all a plan between you and some other fellow to git me into the scrape. Come, now, Prime,” he said, moderating his voice into a less ill-natured tone, “tell us, and I’ll let you off this time.”

“O, Lord!” exclaimed Primus, lifting up his hands, with open palms, and rolling up his eyes towards the moon, “de man is crazy wid de fright, and he see Missa Holden, too, widin two tree feet.”

He turned now on his way home, as if disdaining longer converse with one who refused to listen to reason. The constable followed at his side, growling the whole way, and reproaching the General with his perfidy, the latter protesting it was Basset’s own fault, “when he knew dere was a hole dere,” and that he would have nothing to do with him, or with the cunning old man, for the future. Upon arriving at the bars, Primus, notwithstanding his indignation at the suspicion cast on his honor, courteously invited Basset to take a drink with him, but the latter, suspecting, perhaps, another snare, was in no humor to accept the invitation; and, turning away without even noticing the black’s good-night, directed hasty steps towards the lights of the town.