The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1892-06-18

He Shot Too Wen and 30 They Took
Him Out OF TemuAata0n

He Shot Too Wen and 30 They Took
Him Out OF Temptation.
away up in the Sierras, where the
mountains rear their snow white peaks
and stand like sentinels in armor guard
ing the gold that lies hidden in the rocky
canyons below, once saw an exhibition
of rifle shooting which l have never
since seen equaled, remarked grizzled
old man whose sands Of life had nearly
run, as he stood surrounded by group
OF interested listeners in a well known
| Clark street sporting resort the other
night. What was doing up there
you ask. Why, herding sheep, in order
to get together enough for grub stake
30 that l might start out again on a
prospecting tour.
1--WE had 10000 sheep, divided into
four bands, with three herders and as
many dogs to each one of them, and we
camped wherever night overlook US.
tell you | slept sounder in those days.
rolled up in pair of blankets and with
a log of wood for my pillow, than l do
now in the best bed that can find in a
hotel.
1--WE followed the old stage road that
led up from Stockton through Sonora
and Cherokee camp, and then struck
out over trail that led through the
Big Basin and up to the headwaters of
the Tolumne river. It was in June and
the air was full of the fragrance of
flowers, while the sunlight as it flick
cred through the trees made a chess
board on the velvet green carpet that
lay stretched out beneath the spreading
oaks.
eve had long before left civilization
behind Us, when late one evening we
came out of the woods into a little
mountain meadow that was known as
Cranes fats, and was the headquarters
for band of cattle herders. Most of
them were Italians, but they gave us
warm welcome. One of them in particu-
lar attracted my attention. He was tall,
1.-THE and muscular, and walked with the
easy swing of a professional pedestrian
His eyes were of blush gray, and he
seemed to be leader among his COM
panions, all of whom were swarthy and
dark eyed.
"'If you can get that fellow to show
you some shooting you will see some
thing wonderful in that ine,' whispered
one of my companions.
"'Who is he? asked
italian Joe,' was the reply.
~ had heard of Italian Joe before. At
Sonora, at Cherokee, at the Confidence
mines and in hundred other places his
fame as rife shot had been dinned into
my ears.
The next morning l asked him to
give US an exhibition of his skill. Shoot
ing was his weak point and he consent
ed. Unlike the coy maiden. who can
sing, but wishes to be coaxed before she
does, he had his notes with him. TAX
ing Colts revolving rifle in his hands
he paced off hundred yards and pinned
a common cap box to the trunk Of
huge oak. Coming back, he wheeled as
quick as lightning, and without sight
ing, apparently, he emptied the cham
bers. Six of the shots were in a circle
around the edge. while the seventh was
plumb center.
Loading again. he glanced about
him. High up in the heavens hawk
circled warily through the blue, looking
for something to prey upon. There was
moment of hesitation, quick report
and down came the hawk with bullet
in his head. Pennies, dimes and quar-
tiers that were tossed in the air came
down with bullet hole through them
He missed nothing that he drew bead
on. He could beat all the Carvers and
the Buffalo Bills that you ever saw"
What became of him. asked an
eager listener.
He shot ST man and he didn't miss
him, either. He was captured by band
of vigilantes. and when | came out of
the mountains in the fiji his skeleton
white and CHASTITY, vas hanging to a
tree at the entrance Of the big basin.
The vultures had picked all the flesh
from the bones. and the sun, wind and
rain had bleached them to snowy
whiteness. Pinned to a tree was this
inscription. written with charcoal upon
pine shingle:
HE COULD SHOOT TOO WELL. :