"Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. Enchanted. As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. Let him be sure. ” 162 “Mmmm-hmmm. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. 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.
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