The Portland daily press., 1892-02-22
THE RED RAVEN.

crime was committed at Caperno. Mas
tro LAMA. a worthy man about fifty
years old, who, two months before, had
returned from America with a goodly
heap of gold, was killed By an unknown
hand. Profound CONSERVATION, aggra-
waited by fantastic fear, reigned through
out the country. When would the as
sassin be discovered?
The gendarnes, after securing the
country for week, grew weary of the
useless labor-no trace, no clew.
The grave where MAESTRO LAMA lay
buried was covered with a fall of snow,
and the gravedigger after planting over
it rough cross, had chanted this lugu-
brious antiphon. Frozen, is thy bed,
poor MAESTRO; but the ruffian who cut
thy throat in order to possess himself OF
thy dollars will pass the winter joyously
before hearth crowned with bottless
As the gravedigger turned his back
on the cross and went his way out of the
Enclosure, a hoarse, cultural sound is
sued from the silent gloom of the twi-
light.
..The devil is laughing!" exclaimed
the servant Of the dead, closing the
gate. THE gendarmes will lose their
time.
From the peaks of Albenza to the val
leys of Soma the earth was white--the
streets We're deserted. A few dimly
lighted windows disclosed something OF
life in the human beings huddled to-
getller i'll frosty huts. The whiteness OF
the snow seemed dark as twilight poured
over it's luminous brightness.
4 man wrapped from nose to knees in
thick cloak climbed the steep road that
led from the valley of Soma to Caperno.
He was going to Cpreno. The distance
that still lay before him was long-night
threatened toovertake him ON his way.
Aad this nan-young, healthy, vigorous
was afraid of the night.
Coming from Pontida on his way home
to his own mountainous country, he had
taken the shortest route, which, besides
being the shortest. also enabled him to
avoid inhabited places. He climed the
steep hill with hurried steps, like be-
lated traveller who is in haste to reach
his destination.
On, on he went. The hill overcome,
he stopped an instant, as if at sight of
an obstacle or at the sound of threat.
What had he seen? What heard?
He had seen the white wall Of the
cemetery-had heard the hoarse croak
of the raven.
Oh, it is yet to be seen that Nardo del
Brizzi, the intrepid hunter of the valley
is afraid of the dead.
And the man in the cloak, shaking off
his terror, took up his march with
quick step, that he might leave as quick
ly as possible painful situation
Arrived before the cemetery, he
turned his face from it AMI drew back,
skirting the wall at the left. AS soon as
he seemed sufficiently removed from the
abode of the dead be stopped, wiped
away the perspiration which rolled
down his face, and casting a backward
glance over the road already trayersed,
saw on the white carpet OF snow-hop-
ping after him, running directly toward
hiru--a small body, whose form, out
lined on the deep snow, appeared that of
raven with red plumage. Another
raven.' cried Brizzi, with chattering
teeth. "Mastro's was black. Who ever
saw one of these cursed birds with feath-
ers the color of blood?'
The red raven had stopped III the mid
die of the road and seemed to he waiting
for the man to take up his march again,
in order that he might resume his play
of running after him.
II Brizzi threw aside his cloak, picked
up handful of snow from the ground,
made it i'll ball and taking aim threw
it with a,l oath straight at the bird.
The bird jumped aside to avoid the
project,ie, croaked three times i'll mock
ing tone. then, hopping along on its two
straight nodulous claws. advanced
toward the hunter with the Tatulant
manner Of one who has received chal
lenge.
'sWhy have | not my good gun with
me:' thought the mountaineer, grinding
his teeth. And. burrowing his head
deep in the folds of his cloak, he went
hastily on his way up the hill like a
frightened child.
The raven followed him, beating his
wings. and that noise of fiuttering feath.
ers, penetrating the big hood that en-
veloped the head of the fleeing man,
pierced his ears and froze his blood.
In the dense obscurity of the night,
damp with perspiration, Nardo Brizzi at
last arrived at Opreno.
With convulsiye haste he opened the
door of an old hut, entered, closed it,
then, having lighted lantern, threw its
rays through the little yard to make
sure that the other had not entered.
The other! A tiny bird that in the ex-
cited mind of the mighty hunter had
taken on the proportions of gigantic
soldier!
No; the raven had not entered. The
hunter breathed again and smiled, shak
ing his head How did that filthy grave
yard bird ever arouse such fear III Nardo
Brizzi2
He opened a bottle, emptied it in q
breath and went into the next room to
lie down.
But scarcely had he laid himself on
L Il