"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. Cased and ribbed with stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong encroachments of the current for centuries. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that.
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