The little girl was the daughter of John Hand, 214 East Holton Avenue. On hearing of her death the police at once began a search for Miller, the chauffeur.
Another example of this type of story that follows the chronological order instead of beginning with a summary of the facts, is the following from the New York Sun, in which it was printed at the top of a column on the first page:
Tom Flynn, a coal passer who works next to the Fort Lee Ferry over on the Jersey side, was gazing dreamily out over the Hudson early yesterday morning. Suddenly he dropped his shovel and let out a wild yell.
“Gee whiz, look Bill!” he said to his fellow worker. “There’s a deer out there on the ice.”
About 200 feet off shore a red doe was floating down stream, poised on a large cake of ice. Pretty soon another cake drifted along and jostled the doe’s floe and she slid gracefully into the water and started for shore.
Flynn gave the alarm, and although this is not the open season in New Jersey, the game laws were disregarded and in a few minutes fifty odd deckhands, ticket takers, and commuters were engaged in a deer hunt.[Pg 79] Boat hooks, brooms, and shovels were immediately pressed into service, and the excited crowd waited for the deer to come ashore.
When the doe saw them she changed her direction, veering toward the ferry-boat Englewood, which is hibernating in the Edgewater slip, and took refuge in the lee of the paddle wheel. Having rested, the deer swam out into open water, headed directly for the ferry slip and splashed merrily about below the astonished crowd of amateur stalkers. Someone got a rope and attempted to noose the animal, but she couldn’t see it that way, calmly ducked and continued to cavort about in the water.
Finally the doe became bored, dove under the edge of the slip, and was lost to sight momentarily. She then appeared on the other side of the ferry house. Before the crowd could reach her, she scrambled ashore opposite Terry Terhune’s Dairy Lunch, looked wonderingly into Gantert Bros,’ thirst quenching parlors, dashed up Dempsey Avenue and with a whisk of her tail disappeared up the mountain beyond Palisade Park.
“Well, suffering Jumbo!” said Tom Flynn, “these guys don’t know nothing about deer catching,” and he went sadly back to his coal car.
Several weeks ago three deer escaped from the Harriman preserves up the river, and the doe of yesterday’s chase is supposed to be one of them.