Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1894-09-01
JUAN'S SLAYER.

dead at his own door. Where was the
murderer and who could he be that would
kill such a good old man, and rob him
too? That was the worst of 1t. There was
no clew by which they could work, and
the officers who came up from Guaymas
went home again at the end of week,
weary Of their useless task.
The good padre, who buried the muir
dered man out in the desolate graveyard
Of sand and cactus, where the sun was so
hot 1t cracked all the wooden crosses, said
prayer that the villain might be brought
to justice. But he had little hope that he
would be.
HE has disappeared so completely the
devil must be protecting him., said the
old women as they filed out through a
broken space in tho crumbling wall that
did duty as gate. Poor old Juan is dead,
and he who murdered him is enjoying the
blood stained gold he took from his pock-
ets," is what they thought as they slowly
walked home after the last sad words had
been said. They passed the house where
the dead man had lived for so many years
and shuddered when they saw the dark
spot on the ground-stained with the
blood of Juan that flowed from the ghast-
1y knife wound in his back.
Far away from Ortiz, in a beautiful viii
lage Of the Sierre Madre q young man had
been trying for weeks to forget something
trying to convince himself that he had
not committed a great crime.
He had plenty of gold and the love of a
beautiful maiden if he could only forget
yes, forget that he had killed his father.
He could forget if 1t was not for that
strange whirring sound like the Tapping
Of wings that constantly haunted him.
He first heard it just as he struck the fatal
blow, and since then it has never ceased
day or night.
What was thatP Surely not the wind.
And, If it was not, why should Leonard
Perca be afraid of a sound-he who had
faced wild beasts and fought Indians?
But he turned over In bed and pulled the
clothes over his head to keep away the
sound--that awful sound that first whir-
red like flock of pigeons and then died
away like an infants wall.
Pm sure it has nothing to do with the
killing of the old man, !" said Leonard to
himself, but somehow the whole scene
would come up before him. Again he was
riding along the road to soc the father he
had deserted years ago. He was not going
because he wanted to see the good old man,
but because be wanted money. Money
he must haye at any cost. 1t was long
past midnight when he knocked at the
door and his father came out to greet him.
His father was glad to see him. Leonard
remembers distinctly, and when he asked
for money took out bag and gave him q
good quantity of gold But it was not
enough-he must have it all 1t was such
an easy thing TO do. Only a thrust with
the knife as the old man turned to go
back into the house after bidding him
farewell, and tho gold was his But what
was that whirring soundS The village
was iii dr"kness, but it followed him as
he sped down tho street to his horse and
kept near him as he flew over the country,
farther and farther away from his crime.
No. he never got away from 1t. The sound
was always with him.
Ughl There it was again, and Leonard
pulled tho blankets over his head
Morning came. But tho whirring sound
came with 1t. At night it was nearer than
in the daytime, but it never ceased.
II won't pay any attention to it today"
said Leonard to himself as he went for
his breakfast. II am sure it is nothing
and has nothing to do with me-
1t was beautiful day, and the sun had
nearly reached the zenith. Leonard threw
himself down on the ground in the shade
of a tree to get lttlo sleep that he had
been deprived of in the night, but had
scarcely closed his eye
''Whir-aep, ilap-whir.
ugh"
''Whir. Flap"
Leonard felt cold breeze fan his check
as he jumped to his feet, but there was
nothing near him. He was alone.
by night Leonards brain was in a
whirl. The sound was everywhere. Sure
ly it was his fathers ghost Angels had
wings, and the old mans spirit must be
passing through tho room.
"Whir, whir"
Let me out of this don't want the
gold" and Leonard flung the bag of yell
low coin out of the window Over the hills
and mountains he sped, he knew not
where But the sound was with him.
Again he was in tho street before his
fathers house oh, If the old man were
only alive, he could surely prevent the ter
rible soundl
Somebody was coming, but Leonard hid
in shadow until they passed. ANY
how they don't know did it," he thought.
'Whir, whr-flap, flap"
This time it was closer than it had been
before Surely that was a dark form fly
ing through the air SIN not a bit fright
cned," the murderer thought, trembling
in every limb The dark form in the air
drew nearer and nearer, and the Tapping,
whirring sound was fast and furious.
keep away, flendsl'' yelled Leonard, and
he thought he saw dark, wicked form,
with oloven foot and spiked tail. He COW
cred his face with his hands and screamed
in agony. The dark form came nearer.
Mercy, mercyr' he howled. Awful
forms of darkness, keep awayl 1t was not
/ who killed himl' Tho tapping and
whirring were close to him, and Leonard
could see pair of dark wings spread as If
to Unfold him. He struck out with his
hand and struggled wildly, but tho wings
came closer and closer. He felt claws
scratching his face and heard wings beat
ing the air. Surely the devil had him.
A pain shot through his eyes, every
thing grew black, and it seemed as If the
flames of hell were seething around him.
He ceased struggling, fell to the ground
and lay still in death. The next morning
the people of Ortiz found him lying in tho
same spot where his fathers dead body
had been discovered. The people were al
most crazy with fear. The old padre shook