Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-03-17
THE RED RAVEN.

On the night of the Nativity bloody
crime was committed at Caperno. Mas
tro LAMA, a worthy man about fifty
years old, who, two months before, had
returned from America with 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 gendarmes, 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 fall of snow,
and the gravedigger, after planting over
it rough cross, had chanted this lugu-
brious antiphon, Frozen is thy bed,
poor Mastro; but the ruffian who cut
thy throat in order to possess himself Of
thy dollars will pass the winter joyously
before a hearth crowned with bottlesT
AS the gravedigger turned his back
on the cross and went his way out of the
inclosure, a hoarse, cultural sound is
sued from the silent gloom of the twi-
light.
"The devil is laughingl" 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 were deserted. A few dimly
lighted windows disclosed something Of
life in the human beings huddled to-
gether in frosty huts. The whiteness of
the snow seemed dark as twilight poured
over its luminous brightness.
A 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 Opreno The distance
that still lay before him was long-night
threatened to overtake him on his way
And this man-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 mp his march with a
quick step, that he might leave as quick
ly as possible painful situation.
Arrived before the cemetery, he
turned his face from it and drew back,
skirting the wall at the left. AS soon as
he seemed sufficiently removed from the
abode of the dead he stopped, wiped
away the perspiration which rolled
down his face, and casting backward
glance over the road already traversed,
saw on the white carpet of snow-hop.
ping after him, running directly toward
him-a small body, whose form, out
lined ON the deep snow, appeared that OF
raven with red plumage, Another
raven!" cried Brizzi, with chatterina
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 in the mid
die of the road and seemed to be 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 in bali and taking aim threw
it with an oath straight at the bird.
The bird jumped aside to avoid the
projectile, croaked three times in mock
ing tone, then, hopping along on it's two
straight nodulous claws. advanced
toward the hunter with the petulan
manner of one who has received chal
lenge.
''Why have | not my good gun will
meT' thought the mountaineer, grinding
his teeth. And, burrowing his heat
deep in the folds of his cloak, he wen
hastily on his way up the hill like ,
frightened child
The raven followed him, beating hi
wings, and that noise of iuttering 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 a
last arrived at Opreno.
With convulsive haste he opened tn
door Of an old hut, entered, closed it
then, having lighted lantern, threw it
rays through the little yard to max
sure that the other had not entered.
The other! A tiny bird that in the ex
cited mind of the mighty hunter hat
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