“That’s ’cordin’ ter law,” said the officer. “The law’s mighty partic’lar in the diff’unces it makes. Racin’ at a reg’lar race-track ain’t no harm, an’ bettin’ ain’t nuther, kase it’s puttin’ suthin’ in the State’s pocket, bein’ ez the race-track folks hev ter pay fur a license. But racin’ on a common road an’ a-bettin’ demau’lizes the young men an’ air agin the dignity o’ the State.” He still stood with his hands in his pockets, balancing himself alternately on the heels and the toes of his boots. “The State’s mighty partic’lar.” The singular logic of this utterance occasioned no surprise. Unsophisticated as his auditors were, they were far too wise to reason with the law. They stood meditating on this view, chewing hard, and looking vaguely about them, hardly wondering whether the young men would balk them of their sport in deference to the constable’s threat, or whether they would persist and ride a race on the common road, thus doing a damage to the dignity of the State. “Ye jes’ let ’em alone,” remonstrated the old farmer. “Ye air sech a stirrer up o’ strife, Eli, through tryin’ ter be sech a stickler fur the law. ’Tain’t yer business ter be so tarrifyin’ ter the kentry.” The horse-trade was complete, the exchange made, the boot paid, and the stranger from North Carolina had left the Settlement. Gideon Dake, satisfied with his acquisition, mounted the roan steed and trotted about for a time, showing its paces to the crowd. Presently he dismounted, and looked the animal over. Some of his friends came up, and, with the unerring perspicacity of that genus exerted upon the new purchase, their comments roused his anxiety. He turned from them in alarm, after a few minutes. “Eli,” he said, in confused haste, “do ye know ennything ’bout’n a horse’s eyes? I be sort’n ’feard he’s moon-eyed, or suthin’. Don’t his eyes look cur’ous ter you-uns?” Strobe took hold of the headstall, and the horse, uneasy at being stared out of countenance, tossed his head hastily backward. “I can’t see the critter,” said Strobe, once more pulling the animal’s head down to his own shorter stature. “He couldn’t be blind, or lacking eyesight, could he, Eli? Hey! Hey! Hello thar! Hev that thar North Ca’liny fox gone?” Dake called out to a man near the blacksmith shop. “He hev gone! He hev gone,” in frenzied accents, “He hev gone ter—I dunno whar!—with my sound mare an’ five dollars boot!” He made a pass with his hand before the eyes of the animal, who winked violently and tossed up his head. But that might have been only because he felt the wind of the motion. His unwilling owner moved back a pace, and taking his hat from his head—a large dark object—passed it quickly up and down, too far for the animal to feel the stir in the air, yet near enough to alarm or surprise him if he could see it. The constable stood looking on with interest, awaiting the result of the experiment, when a sudden thunder of galloping hoofs smote the air.