“Keep your advice until it is asked for,” said Pownal; “but before what justice are you taking him?”

“If you come with us, you’ll find out,” answered Basset, whose ill nature seemed to increase.

“That I certainly will.  I must leave you,” said Pownal, turning to the ladies, “to see that this brutal fellow behaves himself.”

“Do,” cried Faith; “do not let them insult him.”

“Let us go with him,” said the impulsive Anne.

“You would make a fine appearance in a justice court,” said her brother “No, I will see you home, and afterwards join Pownal.”

But an occurrence now happened which made any such arrangement unnecessary.  Tom Gladding, who all this while had been quietly whittling out his chain and listening to the conversation, here interposed: 

“Basset,” he said, “you hain’t showed your warrant.”

“It’s all safe enough,” cried the constable, striking his hand on his pocket.

“Well, if that’s the case you’re safe enough, too,” said Tom, as if not disposed to press an inquiry.

But the hint had answered its purpose, and several voices demanded the exhibition of the warrant, to which the constable replied, that it was none of their business; he knew what he was about.

Contrary, however, to what might have been expected from his former submission, the prisoner required to see the written authority by which he was to be consigned to bonds, and refused to move until it had been shown, in which determination he was sustained by the bystanders.  Thus unexpectedly resisted, the constable had no alternative but to release Holden or produce the instrument.  He, therefore, put his hand into his pocket, and pulling out a number of papers, sought for the document.  It was in vain; no warrant was to be found; and, after repeatedly shuffling the papers, he exclaimed:  “I declare I must have lost it.”

Whether he discovered the loss then for the first time, or what is far more probable, did not anticipate its demand from one so flighty as Holden, and meant to procure one afterwards, is not certainly known, but the fact is certain, he had no written authority to arrest.

“You never had one.  Is this the way you treat a free American?  You desarve a ducking; you had better make tracks,” exclaimed several indignant voices from the crowd, with whom a constable cannot be a popular character.

“It’s my opinion,” said the man in the fox skin cap, “Basset has made himself liable for assault and battery.  What do you think, Captain?”

“I ain’t clear on that point,” returned his cautious companion, “but free trade and sailors’ rights, I say, and I’ve no notion of a man’s being took without law.  I’m clear so far.”