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Townsend, George Alfred, 1841-1914

"Bohemian Days Three American Tales"


In the midst of the afternoon gayety a small boy, kneeling down to
buckle up to a farther hole the straps on his guttered skates, saw just
at his toe something like human hair. The small boy rose to his feet and
stamped with all his might around that object, not in any apprehension
but because small boys like to know; and when the ice had been well
broken, kneeling down and pulling it out in pieces with his mitten, the
small boy felt something cold and smooth, and then he poked his finger
into a human eye. It was a dead man. No sooner had the urchin found this
out than he bellowed out at the top of his voice, running and falling as
he yelled: "Murder! Murder! Murder!"
From all parts of the ice, like flies chasing over a silver salver
toward some sweet point of corruption, the hundreds and thousands
swarmed at the news that a dead body had been found. When they arrived
on the spot, spades, picks, and ice-hooks had been procured by those
nearest shore, and the whole mystery brought from the depths of the
river to the surface.
There lay together on the ice two men, apparently several days in the
water, and with the usual look of drowned people of good
condition--glassy and of fixed expression, as if in the moment of death
a consenting grimness had stolen into their countenances, neither
composed nor terrified.


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