“What has all this to do with your respectability?” inquired Basset who began to be a little impatient.

“I come to dat at de end ob de roll call,” responded Primus.  “Do you tink it bery ’spectable now, for a man who, in his younger day, fight for liberty, to go for to take it away in his old age from anoder man?”

“But just consider,” said Basset, whose cue was flattery and conciliation, “Holden went agin the very laws you made.”

“I make de law, Missa Basset?” roared Primus, “haw! haw! haw!  I make de law, haw! haw! haw! does you want to kill me!  O dear!”

“Yes,” said Basset stoutly, “and I can prove it.  Now say, if the Americans didn’t make their own laws, wouldn’t the British make ’em for ’em?  And who was it drove the British out and give us a chance to make our own laws eh?”

“Pity you isn’t a lawyer,” said Primus, suddenly abandoning his mirth at the other’s explanation, “dere is a great deal in what you say—­de white men owes a big debt to us colored pussons.  Dat is a fust rate reason why I should want to see de law execute but not for me to go myself in particular, when, perhaps de ole man point his rifle at me, and tell me to clear out.”

“Why, you don’t think he’ll resist?” cried the constable somewhat startled, feeling the apprehensions revive which Tom Gladding had occasioned, but which the passage of a few days had almost lulled asleep.

“’Tis bery hard to tell what a man do when he git in a corner,” said Primus, shaking his head, and fastening his eyes on the constable’s face, “but, if you want to know my ’pinion, it is just dis—­if Missa Holden know what you up to, he make day light shine trough you, in less dan no time, rader dan be took.”

“Poh?” exclaimed Basset, affecting a courage he was far from feeling, “you’re skeary, Prime.  So, in your judgment, it’s safer to go by night, is it?”

“My ’pinion is made up on all de pints,” said Primus, resolutely, and bringing all his batteries to bear.  “Dis case hab two hinge, de fust is de ’spectability, and de second de safety.  Now, if any man suspect me to go on work ob dis a kind in de day time, when ebery body see me in you company, he as much mistake as when he kiss his granny for a gal.  De night is de proper time for sich a dark business, and it suit me better if I ’scuse altogeder from it.  But I wish to ’bleege you, Missa Basset.  Now, de second hinge is de safety, and it ’stonish me dat an onderstanding man, and a man ob experunce and larning like you, Missa Basset, should dream o’ going in de daytime.  Dere stand old Holden probumbly wid his rifle in de window and all he hab to do, he see so plan, is to pull de trigger and den where is you, Missa Basset?  Or perhaps,” he added laughing, “’stead ob shooting at you, he shoot at me, and dat would be bery onpleasant.  In de day-time, a colored pusson make a better mark dan a white man; but in de night we has de advantage.  Haw!  Haw!”