had
thirty ankers and more of contraband liquor in his cellars, and minding
the sergeant's threat. None the less his jealousy got the upper hand.

"Woman," he cries out, "to thy bed!"

"I was waiting," said she, "to say the Cap'n's bed--"

"Sergeant's," says the dragoon, correcting her.

"--Was laid i' the spare room."

"Madam," replies Sergeant Basket, looking into her eyes and bowing,
"a soldier with my responsibility sleeps but little. In the first
place, I must see that my men sup."

"The maids be now cuttin' the bread an' cheese and drawin' the cider."

"Then, Madam, leave me but possession of the parlour, and let me have a
chair to sleep in."

By this they were in the passage together, and her gaze devouring his
regimentals. The old man stood a pace off, looking sourly.
The sergeant fed his eyes upon her, and Satan got hold of him.

"Now if only," said he, "one of you could play cards!"

"But I must go to bed," she answered; "though I can play cribbage, if
only you stay another night."

For she saw the glint in the farmer's eye; and so Sergeant Basket slept
bolt upright that night in an arm-chair by the parlour fender. Next day
the dragooners searched the town again, and were billeted all about
among the cottages. But the sergeant returned to Constantine, and
before going to bed--this time in the spare room--played a game of
cribbage with Madam Noy, the farmer smoking sulkily in his arm-chair.

"Two for his heels!" said the rosy woman suddenly, halfway through the
game. "Sergeant, you're cheatin' yoursel' an' forgettin' to mark.
Gi'e me the board; I'll mark for both."

She put out her hand upon the board, and Sergeant Basket's closed upon
it. 'Tis true he had forgot to mark; and feeling the hot pulse in her
wrist, and beholding the hunger in her eyes, 'tis to be supposed he'd
have forgot his own soul.

He rode away next day with his troop: but my uncle Philip not being
caught yet, and the Government set on making an example of him, we
hadn't seen the last of these dragoons. 'Twas a time of fear down in
the town. At dead of night or at noonday they came on us--six times in
all: and for two months the crew of the _Unity_ couldn't call their
souls their own, but lived from day to day in secret closets and
wandered the country by night, hiding in hedges and straw-houses.
All that time the revenue men watched the Hauen, night and day, like
dogs before a rat-hole.

But one November morning '