The Owosso times., 1897-06-04

In the middle of the ring. There he lay
crouohiag "a the odorous tan, as though
scarce realizing his unwonted freedom
and struck by the strangeness OF his
| surroundings, his bluodshot eyes rolling
uneasily and his quick, gasping breath
disturbing the dust beneath his dilated
| nostrils.
Paolo had braced his limbs to give
himself strong position in expectation
of Scipio's onrush, his weapon conceal
ed in the hollow of his hand, and as he
stood in all the grace and strength of
his magnificent manhood, every symp-
tom of fear vanished, he felt within
himself that he almost welcomed the
moment that would bring to him vic
tory or death.
Little time for thought, however, had
Paolo. With one fell spring the mighty
beast was at him, his open jaws drip
ping froth, his bloodshot eyes blazing
with fury.
But not this time did he grasp his in
tended prey, for quick as thought the
practioed eye Of the acrobat detected
the movement, and bending forward,
head and knees almost touching the
ground, he made rapid shift in the op-
posite direction and avoided by almost a
hairbreadth being crushed breathless
beneath the lions bulk.
Quick as lghtning's fash the lion
turned once ore, crouching low in the
dust, his yewarily seeking some weak
spot in the armor of this strange an
tagonist, whose 1.-the limbs and sinuous
movements puzzled him, and who show
ed less signs of fear facing him here in
open fight than the crowds of frail hu-
manity Who had Knocked and jeered at
him so often from the safe side Of his
prison bars, but who shrank back af-
frighted when in his wrath he gave his
awful battle roar.
This time, with catlike tread, he
slowly advanced upon his adversary,
striving, as though conscious of his
power and strength, to drive him back
and pen him helplessly and without
chance of escape against the side of the
ring, and then to seize him at his
leisure.
Paolo was also thinking When would
the soldiers come? Gould he survive to
carry on the unequal struggle till they
arrived? But while thinking not mus
Gle relaxed.
Seeing the lions tactics, he gradually
managed to skirmIsh toward the ring,
though by SO doing he passed within
few feet of his nose.
''Come on, Scipio," he said aloud,
xr,f hran hA ,;e,
is not how lions fight. And he made a
slight feint, as though playfully to touch
his adversary on the head.
With deep, hollow roar of anger
Scipio reared aloft ON his hind legs, and,
throwing all prudence to the winds and
realizing that the momentous struggle
had come at last, Paolo rushed madly
at him, man and beast closing in ter
rible death grapple, the lion continuing
erect. as though wishful to wrestle on
equal terms with the brave biped.
In the swift onrush Paolo dropped his
dagger, and now, weaponless but fren-
zied with rage and despair, he exerted
every atom of his marvellous strength
and with one giant upheaval overthrew
the wild beast.
But Scipio's mighty claws were busy,
and the blood lust was ON him too.
Crimson streaks through Paolo's tunio
made it apparent to the fascinated
beholders that this little wrestling bout
was not all that it seemed, and many q
timid heart, sickened by the sight of
blood, edged furtively toward the near
est outlet.
But what sound is this that breaks
the spell and causes the low whispers
Of inquiry to swell into babel of
tongues? In another moment the semi
solitude of the arena is broken by the
appearance of body of soldiers from
the neighboring barracks, all converg-
ing rapidly on one point where lay the
doughty combatants.
The young officer in command, has
tily disengaging revolver from his
belt, fires one, two, three shots into the
prostrate brute's ear, and with one
mighty groan the spirit of the erring
Scipio returns to haunt the solitudes Of
the African deserts.
Tender hands lift Paolo, unconscious,
bleeding and nigh to death. He is borne
from the arena as the audience slowly
files out of the building under the mas
terful direction of some of the soldiers |
told off for the purpose-silent, awe
stricken, sobbing, praying, walking as
in a trance.
In peaceful little Gods acre Just |
outside the walls of Paris sleeps Paolo. |
His grave all the year round blooms |
with lovely flowers, and its fond tend |
ing shows that, though his body has |
passed away, his memory still fourishes |
as brightly as the blossoms that wave