Page:Ornithological biography, or an account of the habits of the birds of the United States of America, vol 2.djvu/225

Rh liand of death was laid on his brow, feebly and hurriedly he muttered, "I am a dying man, farewell !"

Alas ! It is painful to see death in any shape ; in this it was horrible, for there was no hope. The rattling of his throat announced the moment of dissolution, and already did the body fall on my arms with a weight that was insupportable. I laid him on the ground. A mass of dark blood poured from his mouth ; then came a frightful groan, the last breathing of that foul spirit ; and what now lay at my feet in the wild desert ? — a mangled mass of clay !

The remainder of that night was passed in no enviable mood; but my feelings cannot be described. At dawn I dug a hole with the paddle of my canoe, rolled the body into it, and covered it. On reaching the boat I found several buzzards feeding on the bodies, which I in vain attempted to drag to the shore. I therefore covered them with mud and weeds, and launching my canoe, paddled from the cove with a secret joy for my escape, overshaded with the gloom of mingled dread and abhorrence."