A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Kimble had bedded the animal down at the local inn. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures.
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