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.