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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.
Meanwhile, Gladding, for it was no other, who personated the Solitary, and the General were cozily seated by the fire in the hut of the latter, discussing the events of the evening. The false beard was lying on a chair, and a large stone pitcher, containing cider, was placed near the centre of a table, on which the elbow of Tom was leaning, who, from time to time, replenished a mug with the liquor, which made frequent journeys to his mouth. The old General, with his pipe, was seated on the other side of the table, and appeared as ferve