Wood's anxiety respecting the fugitive was speedily relieved by hearing another waterman busy himself in preparation for starting; and, shortly after, the dip of a second pair of oars sounded upon the river. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Bullding is going to. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. "I cannot remain here long. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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