Fiction | December 01, 2001

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That there lived a man named Israel Schelde, there can be no dispute. There is the reflex hammer with the reddish rubber tomahawk head bearing his initials. There is the re shirt, thick and coarse like Indian just, with black buttons, that Israel was known to wear as a coat and in which he appears in many photographs. And in many other places there are many other things, and many people will give accounts of him.

“Nine Worthy and the Best That Ever Were” by Austin Ratner

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