Mrs. Rose Newell, a laundress who works for a girls' school in North Tarrytown, N. Y., was walking toward the school along a wooded stretch of road at nightfall one evening last week. Suddenly, from just over her head, she heard a weird, tremulous cry, half wail, half gibber. A hissing, feathered something struck her in the eye, raked her face with cruel talons. Frightened almost out of her wits, Mrs. Newell screamed and started to run. The screech owl followed her, clawed her again before flitting back to its tree. The...
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