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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

As I reached into the lower of the two bunks
my finger came in contact with some substance that left the impression
of a human body beneath the blanket. I jerked away, startled,
expecting my light touch would arouse the occupant. There was no
movement, however, nor could I distinguish any sound of breathing.
Convinced I had been mistaken, I reached in once more to assure myself
of the truth, and my hand touched cold, clammy flesh. The shock of
discovery sent me reeling backward so suddenly that I slipped and fell.
It was a man--a dead man! In imagination I could see the wide-open,
sightless eyes, staring toward me through the dark. Trembling with the
unreasonable terror of unstrung nerves, I yet managed to regain my
feet. It was not the dead body, so much as the black gloom, which
robbed me of manhood. I could not see where to go, how to escape. At
whatever cost I must procure light. The very desperation yielded me
reckless courage. Shaking as with palsy, yet with teeth clinched, I
reached forward, groping my way back to the side of the bunk. I
touched the edge of the blanket, and thrust it away, feeling the body.
The man was fully dressed, lying upon his back, and I experienced no
difficulty in attaining the pockets of his coat.


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