ppear
when they scent the morning air, so the constable's apprehensions of
them fled at the rising of the sun. When in the dark at the island he
received the blow that prostrated him on the earth, he was unable
to determine in his confusion, whether it had been inflicted by the
fisherman's ghost or by Holden. It never crossed his mind that it
might have come from any one else. On this subject he had mused during
the whole time of his return from his nocturnal disaster, without
being able to arrive at any conclusion. If in those witching hours,
when the stars gleamed mysteriously through the drifting clouds,
and the wind moaned among the bare branches, he was inclined to one
opinion rather than to another, it was to that which would attribute
the blow to the ghost. But with the light of returning day the current
of his thoughts changed. Things assumed an altered aspect. Fears
of inhabitants of an unseen world vanished, and Basset was angry at
himself for entertaining such silly imaginations. It was now evident
that Holden by some means had obtained a knowledge of the design to
capture him, or had suspected it, or had noticed the approach of the
boat and laid in wait to take a most unjustifiable revenge. "I wish
I could prove it," thought Basset; "if I wouldn't make him smart for
striking an officer!"

We shall not be surprised to find that the constable feeling thus,
provided himself with another warrant. Smarting under a sense of
injury, both as a man and a baffled administrator of the law, he had
immediately sought the Justice, revealed the loss of the instrument,
and procured another. Upon returning to the river, where he hoped to
triumph in the presence of those who had witnessed his disgrace,
over one whom he now regarded as an enemy, he found to his infinite
mortification that the bird had flown. He dared not follow alone, and
meditating vengeance, he kept the fatal document safely deposited
in his pocket-book, where "in grim repose" it waited for a favorable
opportunity and its prey.

On the following Monday morning, the constable met Gladding in the
street, whom he had not seen since the latter assisted him on the ice.

"How are you?" cried Tom, seizing him by the hand, and affecting the
greatest pleasure at the meeting; "how do you feel after your row,
friend Basset?"

"Oh, pretty well," answered the constable; "how is it with you?

"Alive and kicking," said Tom. "But, Basset, you hain't got the dents
out