KILLED BY TURKEY BUZZARDS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXIX, Issue 8986, 17 September 1892, Page 2 (Supplement)

KILLED BY TURKEY BUZZARDS.

About three weeks ago a party of gentlemen from Tennessee went over into Mississippi County, Ark., on a hunting expedition (says the St. Louis Republic). The country around there is of the wildest kind, and there were no lodgings to be had, so tha party set up camp. One night the leader of the party, named Watson, started out alone with his gun to get a shot at some deer. Before leaving camp his companions suggested that he had better get back early, as a storm was coming sure, but Watson said he didn't mind and went on. His goal was a little stream about three miles away, where tho deer came nightly to drink. On arriving there he hid himself in a clump of bushes and waited patiently for a shot. But no deer appeared. Ho waited and waited, and finally fell asleep. It must have been something over an hour when he was aroused by a terrible burst of thunder and the glaring of zigzag flashes of lightning. Ho could not see his hand before his face. Stunned by the outbursts of thunder and blinded by the lightning, he staggered to his feet and groped his way toward what ho thought was the direction of the camp. After some miles of hopeless wandering the lost man saw in the distance the glimmering of a light. Ho knew it was not the camp,* for no light could live there such a night, but he steered toward it. When ho came up to it he found a little low log cabin, with no windows and a single door. It. was not an inviting place, but Watson feared nothing, and boldly pounded on the door. Then the door opened on a ccack and the villainous faco of an oldish man appeared. "What do you want?" he demanded, gruffly. "Can you keep me for the night ?" Watson asked. " I've lost my way." " Well, I want money. Have you got it?" " Yes, sir," said Watson "lots of it," and, pulling his wallet out, he handed the man five dollars. As the fellow saw the big roll a dangerous look came into his eyes, but without saying anything he took Watson to his room—a small one leading off from the main room. There were no windows in ib and no floor, but it was better than being out in the rain, so Watson decided to make the best of it. As he stood gazing thoughtfully at his candle and wringing out his coat he thought be heard someone fumbling at the door of his room. He called out, bub there was no answer. Blowing out his candle, he threw himself on the improvised bed and tried to sleep, but he could not. There seemed to be a disagreeable odour in the room; he tried to think what it was, and it finally came to him. It was buzzards, the dirtiest of all birds.

A faint beam of light was coming from under the centre of the back wall of the room. Watson thought a moment, and then dropping on his Knee peeped under. He could see a large enclosure, thirty feet) long" and a dozen wide, sided up and roofed over only with brush. Forty or fifty buzzards were hopping around and fighting viciously over a few parcels of raw meat which the owner of the house was tossing to them. Watson could see that they were well-nigh starved. The old man as he dealt out the bits of meat smiled, showing his yellow teeth, and muttered gleefully to himself. As Watson knelt there on the floor in his room he wondered why any man could have such pets. The spectacle soon began to tire on him, and he carelessly began noticing the crack through which he was peering. " It's a panel," he exclaimed, and the whole diabolical scheme flashed through his mind. The old man was going to infuriate the birds with a little meat, then let them into his room and, after they had eaten him, rob him of his money. His blood froze at the horrible idea His heart almost stopped beating. Tiptoeing to his door, he tried ib. It was locked. How he cursed himself for leaving his gun in the woods when the storm started.

What could he do A? he stood hesitating ho saw the stream of light widen. The panel was rising- He could see a string tied to it, by which the old man could raise it and keep away from the birds. Wild with fear, the imprisoned man began to scream. " Let me out. Let me out. You can have my money," he cried. " Only don't let me die like this." Tho only answer was a chuckle from the old man and the flapping ot the buzzards' wings. The panel rose higher and higher, and in a moment one of the birds shot through, and, with a scream, flew at Watson's eyes. He choked it to death, but another followed, and another and another. His face was bleeding, his hands were torn, and his clothes were being dragged off him by the starving birds. There was but one chance left. That was the door. Putting his hands before his eyes and turning his shoulder, he ran against it with all his strength,, time and time again. His tormentor fearing for its strength, had braced himself against it on the other side. Watson could hear him chuckling. At kvt, nerving him self for one last effort, tho now bleeding, weakened man throw all his strength and weight against the door, and it gave. Another effort and it fell, carrying the old man down with it and pinning him underneath. With a wild rush Watson dashed out of the house and into the night. He ran and ran until, almost exhausted, he stumbled on to the camp by accident. At daylight he and his friends went back to the scene of the adventure and found only the skeleton of the murderer. Caught beneath the door and partially stunned, the carrion birds had killed him before he could recover. In the cage of the buzzards a lot of human bones were found, showing that he had succeeded many times in his murderous methods.