Beachcombing's Bizarre History Blog

The Flint Hill Wildman: The Hunt June 9, 2015

Resolution of yesterday’s mystery!

When the D., M. & A. Railroad, which will have cars running here next week, began the grading and cutting at what is known as the Cascade, they brought a gang of Italians under the management of an Irish man Pat Durfee by name, who is almost a prodigy of strength. Durfee had a habit of wearing a heavy gold neck-chain. For several consecutive nights the Italians, who camped in the timber in weather-beaten tents, complained that they were frequently aroused by someone prowling about the camp. Durfee ridiculed their fears, but became impressed with their earnestness, and so remained on the watch in the midst of the camp. He fell asleep, but was aroused by feeling his watch-chain torn from him, and sat up, only to see a figure bounding away in the starlight. Plucking forth his revolver he fired, and the figure fell with a yell of pain and fury that sounded like the roar of a wild beast. As Durfee approached the prostrate figure arose, revealing a man over six feet tall, clad in a fantastic garb of leather and with an indescribable look of fierceness. He hurled a huge club at Durfee, who attempted to fire again, but was knocked senseless, while the stranger bounded away in spite of a bullet in his leg. As soon as Durfee recovered he started in pursuit with the Italians and a number of Irish graders. Three Cherokees acted as guides. They followed the trail deeper and deeper into the heavy timber and entered the wild and broken Flint Hills. Late in the day they were suddenly halted by a large stone striking one of the Italians on the head, felling him to the ground. From behind a huge boulder sprang the object of the pursuit with furious yells, and rushed deeper into a jungle-like hollow in the hills that was almost impenetrable. The hollow ended abruptly at what looked like the mouth of a cave.

We now come to Ragnarok.

Here the wild man made a stand, partly concealed by a large stone, and began to throw missiles with unerring aim in the midst of the pursuers. Three men fell, and Durfee fired every load in his pistol, but without more than wounding the strange being. Emboldened by his success, he rushed at the little band of Italians, brandishing a huge club, and roaring like the maniac that he clearly showed himself to be. Right and left he struck stunning blows, and men went down like nine-pins. The Irishmen were all armed with clubs and strove to disable him, but without avail, while the Italians drew their long knives, but seemed powerless to stay the savage onslaught. Finally Durfee dodged a stroke of the deadly club and closed with the maniac, but was hurled to the ground in spite of his great strength. But this gave the Italians an opportunity, and, wild with anger, they swarmed upon him. The long knives were used so  vigorously that the raving man sank to the ground slashed all over his body. In a few moments he breathed his last. As he lay with, his features distorted and foam on his lips, one could hardly repress a shudder of dread at his frightful appearance. His face was tanned by exposure to about the colour of sole leather, and was seamed by terrible scars. His nose was broken, and had grown horribly distorted, and half of his upper lip had in been torn away, exposing teeth like fangs. A tangled mat of iron-grey hair covered his head and the lower portion of, his face. Clasped around his wrists were a pair of heavy steel bands, from one of which depended a link of a chain.

And now the victims again. Oh Katie…

Upon entering the cave and following a, winding passage, some 20 feet long, a horrible sight met the of eyes of the searchers. Upon a, shelf of rock was a ghastly array of grinning human-skulls to the number of 16, and in the centre of the cave lay a neatly-arranged pile of human bones. There was, a rude fire-place and a, few cooking utensils, and a couch of dry grass and skins near. Hanging from a series of pegs driven into rifts in the wall were an assortment of articles of all descriptions. There were the saddle and bridle of the murdered a mail-carrier, and near hung the empty pouch. There were the clothes of poor Elmner Johnson and the gun of Oscar Beach, and nearly a hundred articles, the ownership of which was not known. The maniac’s treasures were found in a pocket rift in the wall. There was the locket of little Katie Fentwek, and articles of all kinds, and all of value. The maniac was searched, and Darfee’s watch chain was discovered. The Italians buried the body in a shallow gully, and covered it with stones. It is believed that the maniac was a half-breed member of the Delaware tribe, who had become insane several years before, and had escaped with his irons still upon him, and it was supposed to have died from exposure. The greatest excitement prevails here, and the cave is daily visited by Sightseers. Mr Fentwek has been notified, and will arrive to-morrow. All the bones have been buried except those that are supposed from their size to be those of little Katie.

Any thoughts on this sublime nonsense and its origins: drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com