There was poor Mr. Dreifuss lying stone
dead on his couch. I knew that he was dead, for his hands were cold
and clammy to the touch. I was struck with astonishment. The day
before had I spoken to him, when he appeared to be hale and hearty.
There were some ugly, black spots on his face, and I thought that it
was very queer. I did not see any marks of violence on his person and
nothing unusual about the premises. I looked around carefully, as a
boy is apt to do when something puzzles him. Then I thought I would
go up-town and tell about this strange circumstance.
The store was the first building met with in the town if a person
came from the railway station. As I went toward the next house, which
was a short distance away, I was hailed by a tall, broad-shouldered
man with long hair, who commanded me to halt. I kept right on,
however, meaning to tell him about my gruesome discovery. As I
advanced toward him he retreated, and I called to him to have no
fear, as I did not intend to shoot. The big man shook with laughter
and cried, "Hold, boy, stop there a minute until I tell you
something. They say that 'Wild Bill' never feared man, but I fear
you, a mere boy. Did you come out of that store?" "Yes, sir," I said.
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