Upon leaving the ice-boat, the eyes of Pownal discovered the tall form of Holden, in the midst of a group of persons whom he appeared to be addressing; and upon his mentioning the circumstance to the others, it was proposed to join him.  Accordingly, they added themselves to his audience.  Several large baskets were lying near him on the ice, and so engaged was he in his subject that he took no notice of the approach of his four young friends.  The address was not without a burst or two of eloquence, springing out of the intense conviction of the speaker, and was listened to respectfully enough.  Not that a convert was made; not that there was a person present who did not regard his notions as the hallucinations of a disturbed intellect, but a part of the bystanders esteemed and respected him as a man of noble and generous disposition, lavish of his small means towards those whom he considered poorer than himself, and never faltering in any act of kindness on account of hardship or privation; while the rest, as already intimated, felt a sort of awe in his presence from the mystery that surrounded him.  Among the spectators was our old friend, Tom Gladding, leisurely engaged in whittling out a chain from a pine block, some twelve inches in length, from which he had succeeded in obtaining three or four links that dangled at its end, and listening with a comical expression, as if he were anticipating some fun.

The Enthusiast had hardly concluded his exhortation before Basset, who stood on the outside of the ring during its delivery, stepped forward, and placing his hand on Holden’s shoulder, informed him he was his prisoner.  Holden made no resistance, but drawing himself up to his full height, and fastening his eyes sternly on the constable, he demanded: 

“What art thou?”

“My name is Barnabas Basset,” answered the constable, a little embarrassed.

“I care not for thy name,” said Holden, “but by what authority darest thou to lay thy hand on a free man?”

“By authority of the State of Connecticut,” replied the constable, recovering from his momentary confusion, and feeling quite safe in the crowd.  “It’s true, I hain’t got my staff, but everybody’s bound, according to law, to know the constable.”

“And, therefore, is an innocent man to be treated as a malefactor?”

“I don’t know about the innocence,” said Basset, “and it’s none of my business.  You must talk to the justice about that.  All I’ve got to do is to execute my warrant according to law.”

“It is written, resist not evil,” said Holden, musingly.  “Behold, I am in thy hands; do with me what thou willest.”

But some of the spectators appeared indisposed to be so passive.  Pownal and Bernard walked up to the constable, and demanded to know the meaning of the outrage.

“You may just call it what you please, Mr. Pownal,” answered Basset, indignant at being interfered with, as he called it, in the discharge of his duty, “and I advise you not to git your fingers catched in the law; but if you must know, the justice, I guess, will tell you.”