“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?”