Joe Lyons, the nineteen-year-old son of Isaac Lyons of Orangethorpe, shot and seriously wounded Morris Smith, son of W. J. Smith of the same place, at Fullerton at about half-past 9 o’clock on last Thursday morning. Lyons had driven in from his father’s ranch in a cart and awaited the coming of Smith on the sidewalk on Commonwealth avenue near Smith’s butcher shop. The latter shortly after arrived, coming up on horseback through the alley leading out on to Commonwealth avenue in rear of Stern and Goodman’s store. Friendly greetings passed as the two approached one another.

“Hello, Joe,” said Morris.

“Hello, Morris,” replied Joe.

As Morris was about to continue on his way toward his shop, Joe accosted him further:

“Say, Morris, you have ruined my sister.”

What words subsequently passed between them are in doubt, but Joe, who was standing with his hands in his overcoat pockets, sought to draw therefrom his pistol. The weapon caught in the lining of the pocket. Morris saw the handle of the weapon and putting spurs to his horse and leaning well over on the other side of the animal, galloped off down the avenue.

Joe succeeded instantly in disengaging his revolver, and leveling at Morris, fired when the latter’s horse had taken but a few paces. The shot entered the back of the left side, at the eighth rib, going upward and passing within an inch of the heart. An instant later he fired again, the ball striking the horse at the spine on the hip. The ball ploughed a ridge along the spine, and passed through Smith’s coat, doing no damage.

Smith rode down the avenue a block westerly, and halted some distance away and looked back to see what his antagonist was doing.

He saw Lyons engaged in unhitching his cart, which was tied in front of the butcher shop. Lyons climbed into the rig and lashed his horse to a gallop after Smith. The latter put spurs to his horse and galloped to the first turn in the road north. He turned the corner and rode rapidly northward. At the next turn east he galloped east a block and then turning south on Spadra road, urged his horse on toward his shop, near which the shooting had but a moment before occurred. Lyons was on his heels, having gradually gained upon him, and had it not been for Smith’s expert horsemanship and for his skill in turning the corners, Lyons would undoubtedly have fired at him again. The absence of an available target deterred the infuriated man from sending another bullet after the fleeing horseman.

Smith alighted hurriedly and ran upstairs to his room over the butcher shop. He seized his revolver and, not knowing that he had been hit, sought to go downstairs and defend his life with his gun.

A crowd quickly collected and prevented the young men from getting together. An employe at Smith’s butcher shop ran out with a cleaver and