and who even claimed
to be his father, indicated that his home was in one or another of the
poorest and meanest districts of London. Would the search for him be
difficult, or long? No, it was likely to be easy and brief. He would
not hunt for the boy, he would hunt for a crowd; in the centre of a big
crowd or a little one, sooner or later, he should find his poor little
friend, sure; and the mangy mob would be entertaining itself with
pestering and aggravating the boy, who would be proclaiming himself King,
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
the Abbey. He drifted here and there amongst the multitudes that were
massed in the vicinity for a weary long time, baffled and perplexed, and
finally wandered off, thinking, and trying to contrive some way to better
his plan of campaign. By-and-by, when he came to himself out of his
musings, he discovered that the town was far behind him and that the day
was growing old. He was near the river, and in the country; it was a
region of fine rural seats--not the sort of district to welcome clothes
like his.

It was not at all cold; so he stretched himself on