as usual. Then Miles Hendon would cripple some of those people, and

carry off his little ward, and comfort and cheer him with loving words,

and the two would never be separated any more.

So Miles started on his quest. Hour after hour he tramped through back

alleys and squalid streets, seeking groups and crowds, and finding no end

of them, but never any sign of the boy. This greatly surprised him, but

did not discourage him. To his notion, there was nothing the matter with

his plan of campaign; the only miscalculation about it was that the

campaign was becoming a lengthy one, whereas he had expected it to be

short.

When daylight arrived, at last, he had made many a mile, and canvassed

many a crowd, but the only result was that he was tolerably tired, rather

hungry and very sleepy. He wanted some breakfast, but there was no way

to get it. To beg for it did not occur to him; as to pawning his sword,

he would as soon have thought of parting with his honour; he could spare

some of his clothes--yes, but one could as easily find a customer for a

disease as for such clothes.

At noon he was still tramping--among the rabble which followed after the

royal procession, now; for he argued that this regal display would

attract his little lunatic powerfully. He followed the pageant through

all its devious windings about London, and all the way to Westminster and

311

The Prince and The Pauper