.

A 'BATABLE POINT.
When Constable David tried to rise after that fall, he discovered too many reasons to believe that his leg had been broken.

Constable Jonathan had fared better as to wind and limb, but upon regaining his feet he found the voice of duty silent within him as to the necessity of any further action such as might expose him to more serious disabilities.

With the spirit of the professional combatant, he rather admired the prowess of their adversary, and certainly bore him no ill-will because he had vanquished them.
"The man's six foot high if he's an inch, and has the strength of an ox," he said, as he bent over his coadjutor and inquired into the nature of his bruises.
Constable David seemed disposed to exhibit less of the resignation of a brave humility that can find solace and even food for self-flattery in defeat, than of the vexation of a cowardly pride that cannot reconcile itself to a stumble and a fall.
"It all comes of that waistrel Mister Burn-the-wind," he said, meaning to indicate the blacksmith by this contemptuous allusion to that gentleman's profession.
Constable Jonathan could not forbear a laugh at the name, and at the idea it suggested.
"Ay, but if he'd burned the wind this time instead of blowing it," he said, "we might have raised it between us.

Come, let me raise you into this saddle instead.