One of two pedestrians walking on a New York street turned, pointed at the big bronze man they had just passed, and said earnestly, “I wouldn’t trade places with that bird for a million bucks!”
The pedestrian’s companion also looked at the bronze man.
“You said it, ” he agreed. “I wouldn’t last a day in his shoes, if half of what I’ve heard is true.”
If the bronze man was aware of their attention, he gave no sign. Many persons turned to stare at him; newsboys stopped shouting abruptly when they saw him; but the bronze man merely went on with long, elastic strides.
“He’s not often seen in public, ” some one breathed.
“And no wonder!” another exclaimed. “The newspapers say his enemies have made countless attempts to kill him.”
The heads of the tallest individuals on the New York street did not top the bronze man’s shoulders. He was a giant. Yet it was only the manner in which he towered above the throng that made him seem as huge as he really was, so symmetrically perfect was his great frame developed.
“They say he can take a piece of building brick in one hand and squeeze it to dust, ” offered a man.
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