I Dont Think Hell Win Any Popularity Contests …

… On Monday morning it was determined to arrest the Greaser, Joe Pizzanthia, and to see precisely how his record stood in the Territory … A party started for his cabin, which was built on a side-hill. The interior looked darker than usual from the bright glare of the surrounding snow. The smmons to come forth being disregarded, Smith Ball and George Copley entered, contrary to the advice of their comrades, and instantly recieved the fire of their concealed foe. Copley was shot through the breast. Smith Ball recieved a bullet in the hip. They both staggered out, each ejaculating, Im shot. Copley was led off by two friends, and died of his wound. Smith Ball recovered himself, and was able to empty his six shooter into the body of the assassin, when the latter was dragged forth.

The popular excitement rose nearly to madness. Copley was a much-esteemed citizen, and Smith Ball had many friends. It was the instant resolution of all present that the vengeance on the Greaser should be summary and complete.

A party whose military experience was still fresh in their memory made a rush, at the double-quick, for a mountain howitzer which lay dismounted, where it had been left by the train to which it was attached. Without waiting to place it on the carriage, it was brought by willing hands to within five rods of the windowless side of the cabin, and some old artillerists, placing it on a box, loaded it with shell, and laid it for the building. by one of those omissions so common during times of excitement, the fuse was left uncut, and, being torn out in its passage through the logs, the missile never exploded, but left a clean breach through the wall, making chips fly. A second shell was put into the gun, and this time the fuse was cut, but the range was so short that the explosion took place after it had traversed the house.

Thinking that Pizantha might have taken refuge in the chimney, the howitzer was pointed for it and sent a solid shot through it. Meanwhile the military judgement of the leader had been shown by the posting of some riflemen opposite the shot-hole, with instructions to maintain so rapid a fire upon it that the beleaguered inmate should not be able to use it as a crenelle through which to fire upon the assailants. No response being given to the cannon and small-arms, the attacking party began to think of storming the dwelling.

The leader called for voulunteers to follow him. Nevada cast in her lot first, and men from the crowd joined. The half dozen stormers moved steadily, under cover of the edge of the last building, and then dased at the house, across the open space. The door had fallen from the effects of the fusilade; but, peeping in, they could not see anything until a sharp eye noticed the Greasers boots protruding. Two lifted the door while Smith Ball drew his revolver and stood ready. The remainder seized the boots.

On lifting the door, Pizanthia was found lying flat and badly hurt. His revolver was beside him. He was quickly dragged out, Smith Ball paying him for the would he had recieved by emptying his revolver into him.

A clothes-line was taken down and fastened round his neck; the leader climbed a pole, and the rest holding up the body, he wound the rope round the top of the stick of timber, making a jamb hitch. While aloft, fastening all securely, the crowd blazed away upon the murderer swinging beneath his feet. At his request,Say, boys! Stop shooting a minute-the firing ceased, and he came down by the run. Over one hundred shots were discharged at the swaying corpse.

A friend-one of the four Bannack originals-touched the leaders arms and said, Come and see my bonfire. Walking down to the cabin, he found that it had been razed to the ground by the maddened people, and was then in a bright glow of flame. A proposition to burn the Mexican was recieved with a shout of exultation. The body was hauled down and thrown upon the pile, upon which it was burned to ashes so completely that not a trace of a bone could be seen when the fire burned out.

In the morning some women of ill-fame actually panned out the ashes, to see whether the desperado had any gold in his purse.