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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Egad!" gasped Radisson, "I don't mind when the wind howls like a wolf, but when it takes to the death-scream, with snow like the skirts of a shroud " "May the Lord have mercy on us!" muttered La Chesnaye, crossing himself. "It is sign of death! That was a woman's figure. It is sign of death!" "Sign of death!" raged Ben, stamping his impotent fury, "'tis him 'tis him!
For years I could not visit the spot without hearing, in and above the ceaseless shouting of the waters, poor mad Tulp's awful death-scream. During the month immediately following the event, my time was closely engaged in public work.
Of all, the most terrible is the death-scream of a horse, a cry of frightful timbre, treasured, according to some secret law, until this dire instant when for him death indeed passes.
Two men rolled from their saddles with a death-scream that died down to a hideous gurgle, as the racing hoofs trod the last atom of life out of their bodies. His guns belched a second time, and James' throat was plowed open, and the rich red blood spurted in a ghastly tide.
As the black rat, at the end of his amazing lightning display, reached the barn, with his mate behind him, he leapt he could not stop clean over the back of one great twenty-inch, glitter-eyed brown ghoul, called by the death-scream of his colleague other rats usually answer it coming out of a hole.
He had time to see it dive like a dipping kite but it was a sparrow-hawk and to hear the death-scream of a feeding blackbird, before he went completely from that place, and it knew him no more.
During the whole of that day the death-scream of the poor sailor seemed to echo in my ears, in sad contrast with the coarse mirth and loud rude laughter that rang over the decks of the Pandora. On board it was a day of jubilee.
Every moment he expected to hear that terrible cry of which he had read, the death-scream of a horse, and then to hear the crunching of bones between the jaws of the ferocious wolves. He had spent the previous night alone in camp, peacefully sleeping. But then the yells of the beasts of darkness had been far away, and the walls of his tent had shut him in from the wild.
What can be the nature that can take pleasure in seeing an absolutely defenceles animal let out in a confined space, with no chance of escape, no fair play at all, nothing in front of it but certain death whichever way it turns? What can be the nature which can enjoy the death-scream of the agonized hare as the dogs' fangs dig into the quivering flesh?
By what inhuman tortures they had made him point the way, or how or why they slew him at the last, I know not, but I made sure it was his death-scream that had halted me and set the stillness of the forest alive with ghastly echoes.
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