The Olneyville tribune. (Providence, R.I.) 1893-189?, 1893-12-09

poor Joe some o. his sneakin' tricks
an thrown him into the swamp 1t
amt no wonder as the body is gone.
But air We 70 stan by and see En-
glish murderin' our own chumsY
guess not Let Jcdge Lynch try
him; that's what l say Lynch
him! shouted hundred angry voices
for all the rag-tag an bobtail o.
the settlement was round us by this
time. Here, boys, fetch a rope an
swing him up. Up with him over
Simpsons doorH See here, though,
says another, coming forrards; let's
hang him by the great fytrap in the
Rluch Let Joe see as he's revenged,
IL so be as he's buried bout there!'
There was shout for this, an away
they went with Scott tied on his
mustang in the middle, and a
mounted guard, with cooked revol.
vers, round him; for We knew as there
was score or so Britishers about as
didn't seem TO know any jcdge OF that
partic'lar name.
81 went out them, my heart
bleedin' for Scott. though he didn't
seem cent put out he didn't lie
were game TO the backbone. Seems
kinder queer, sir, hangin' man TO a
flytrap, but our'n were a reg'lar tree
and the leaves like brace OF boats
with a hinge between 'em and thorns
at the bottom.
1--WE passed down the gulch TO the
place where the great one grows, and
there we seed IL, with the leaves,
some open, some shut But we seed
something worse nor that Standin'
rounding the tree was some twenty
all, an armed 10 the
teeth. They was waiting for us
evidently, an had business.likc
look about 'em, as if they'd come for
something and meant Ia have il.
There was the raw material there for
about as warm scrimmidge as ever
! seed.
"As we rode up a great red bearded
Scotchman-Cameron were his name
stood out afore the rest his re-
volver cooked In his hand. See here,
boys, he says, you've got nO call To
hurt a hair OF that mans head. You
hain't proved as Joe is dead yet; and
IL you had, you hain't proved as Scott
killed him. Anyhow, II were in self
defense; for you all know as he was
lying in wait for Scott to shoot him
on sight So. / say agin, you hain't
got no call 70 hurt that man; and
what's more, I've got twenty six.
barreled arguments against your
doin' it, It's an interesting pint,
and worth arguin' out said the man
as was Alabama Joe's special chum.
There was a clickin' OF pistols, and a
loosenin' OF knives, and the two
parties began to draw up TO one an.
Other, an IL looked like a rise In the
mortality OF Arizona. Scott was
standing behind with pistol at his
ear IL he stirred, lookin' quiet
and composed as having no money
on the table; when sudden he gives
ears like trumpet. Joe" he cried,
Joe! Lock at HMM the fytrap!
We all turned an looked where he
was pointin'. Jerusalem! think
we won't get that picter out OF ouI
minds agin. One OF the great leaves
OF the fytrap, that had been shut
and touchin' the ground a. il lay, wa.
slowly rolling back upon It's hinges
There lying like an oyster in It's shell,
was Alabama Joe, in the hollow oi
the leaf! The great horns had been
slowly driven through his heart as IL
shut upon him! We could see az he'd
tried TO cut his way out, for there was
a slit in the thick feshy leaf, an his
bowie was in his hand; but IL had
smothered him first He'd lain down
on it, likely TO keep the damp of
while he we're AVA tin for Scott,
and il had closed on him as you've
seen your little hothouse ones do on
fly: and there he were, as we found
him, torn and mashed, and crushed
into pulp, by the great Jagged teeth
OF the man-eatin' plant. There. sirs.
/ think you'll own that as a curious
story Utica Globe.