God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight.
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