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

IN alone DeIOre the stove. Joe sat
down 10y the table and put his revol-
yer and bowie down in front OF him
'Them's my arguments, Jetf,' he says
10 me, III any white-livered Britisher
dares give me the lie l tried to
stop him; but he weren't a man as
you could easily turn. and he began
TO speak in a way AS no chap could
stand. Why, even Greaser would
flare up IL you said as much about
Greaserland! There was a commo-
tion at the bar and every man laid
his hands on his wepins; but afore
they could draw we heard a quiet
voice from the stove: say your pray
ers, Joe Hawkins; for you're dead
mani
Joe turned around ana looked like
grabbin' for his iron. But il weren't
no use. Tom Scott was standing up,
covering HIM with his Derringer; a
smile on his white face, but the very
devil shining in his eyes n 1T amt
that the old country has served me
over-well, he says but no man shall
insult il before me and live" For a
second his finger frightened round the
trigger, and then he gave laugh,
and threw the pistol on the floor.
No he says: Il can't shoot a half
drunken man! Take your dirty life,
Joe, an use IL better nor you have
done' He swung contemptuously
round, and relit his halfsmoked pipe
from the stove; while Alabama slunk
out o the bar, with the laughs OF the
Brittishers ringing in his ears. l
saw his face as he passed me, and on
IL l saw murder, sirs-murder, as
plain as ever / seed anything in my
life,
II stayed in the bar after the row,
and watched Tom Scott as he shook
ha nds with the men about. 1t seemed
kinder queer 20 me TO see him smilin'
and cheerful-like; for l knew Joe's
bloodthirsty mind, and that the Eng
lishman had small chance of ever
seeing the morning. He lived i'm an
out-of-the-way sort OF place, you see,
clean off the trail, and had TO pass
through the Flytrap Gulch TO get to
IT, This here gulch was a marshy,
gloomy place, lonely enough during
the day eyen-for il were always "A
creepy sort o thing TO see the great
eight and ten-foot leaves swapping up
il aught touched them; but at night
there was never soul near Some
parts of the marsh, too, were soft
and deep, and body thrown In
would be gone by the morning. /
could see Alabama Joe crouchin'
under the leaves OF the great flytrap
in the darkest part OF the gulch,
with scowl on his face and re-
volver in his hand. l could see il,
sirs, as plain as with my two eyes.
'Bout midnight, Simpson shuts up
his bar so out we had TO 60. Tom
Scott started off for his three mile
walk at a slashing pace. l just
dropped him hint as he passed me,
for | kinder liked the chap. Keep
your Derringer there or about it, l
says, for you might chance TO need
it, He looked round at me with his
quiet smile, and then i lost sight OF
him in the gloom. 1 never thought
to see him again. He'd hardly gone
afore Simpson come up TO me and
says: There'll be old hell in the
Flytrap Gulch tonight, JEFF. The
boys say that Hawkins started half
an hour ago TO wait for Scott aud
shoot him on sight | calc'late the
Coroner III be wanted TO morrow"
"W hai passed in the gulch that
night? 1t was a question as were
asked pretty free next morning A
half-treed was in Ferguson's store
after daybreak, and he said as he'd
chanced to be near the gulch bout
in the morning. 1t warn't easy TO
get at his story, he seemed so uncom-
mon scared but he told us, at last, as
he'd heard the fearfullest screams in
the stiffness OF the night. There
weren't no shots. he said, but scream
after scream, kinder mutfied. like a
man with serape over his head, an
in immortal pain. Abner Brandon
aud me, and few more, was in the
store at the time: so we mounted and
rode out TO Scotts house, passing
through the gulch on The way. There
weren't nothing partic'lar TO be seen
there-no blood nor marks OF "A fight,
nor nothing. and when We gets up TO
Scott's house, out he comes TO meet
us as fresh as "A lark. 'HullO, Jenn
says he, no need for the pistols, after
all! Come in an have a cocktail,
boys Did ye see or hear nothing as
ye come home last night? says l.
No, says he; all was quiet enough.
An owl kinder moaning in the Fly
trap Gulch-that was all. Come,
jump Oft and have a glass Thank
ye.' says Abner. So off we gets, and
Tom Scott rode into the settlement
with us when we went back
IAN ALFRED commotion was on in
Main street ds we rode into it. The
'Merican party seemed TO have gone
clean craZed. Alabama Joe was gone
not a darned particle OF him left.
Since he went out TO the gulch nary
eye had seen him. As we got of our
horses, there was considerable crowd
in front OF Simpsons, and some ugly
looks at Tom Scott / can tell you
There was a clickin OF pistols, and |