The answer yelled back was not printable. It reflected not only on the Rev. James Hartigan, but on all his ancestors. Then, in an instant, the insane brute took a wooden hand-spike from his load and dealt the horse a terrific blow on the head. The beast staggered, almost fell, but recovered just as the driver, shouting, "I"ll larn you!" landed another blow and hauled back for a third that would have felled if not killed the horse. But Jim got there first. He jerked the club out of the man"s hand and as the attack turned on himself, he laid the driver out with a deft tap of the kind he knew so well. The other man with the load now rushed at Jim to avenge his fallen leader. But it is easy to meet that sort of onset when you know the game and have the muscle. The second went down on top of the first teamster amid loud cheers from the men in the buggies.
Five years before, in this country, Jim would certainly have been shot within the first five minutes, but the law and order society had been doing good work, and now men did not carry revolvers as of old, so nature"s weapons counted as firearms once had done.
"Jim!" called Belle feebly. "Let"s go." He turned; she was ghastly pale, as she held on to Midnight. She had never before seen men fight. She was appalled and terrified.
"Dear child," he laughed, almost gleefully, "you"re not used to it.
Don"t take it so seriously. Sure it"s fun and it"s missionary work.
Don"t be worried at seeing men tumbled over. As soon as those two fools come to and stand on end, I"ll show them how to drive a horse." He straightened out the two men he had stunned, and then went to the trembling horse.
As he laid his hand on its shoulder it shrank. He talked softly and began to examine the harness. Sure enough, there was a ma.s.s of c.o.c.kle burrs caught in the long mane and wedged under the collar, so that every pull of the harness drove the sharp spines into the animal"s shoulder.
Jim loosened the collar, cut off the ma.s.s of burrs, sacrificed his handkerchief to make a soft pad, and replaced the collar. Meanwhile, the two teamsters were sitting up and looking on with little joy in their faces.
"Now you two ignorant babes, I"ll show you how to drive a horse that you"ve made baulky; and I want you to know that there are not any baulky horses; it"s baulky drivers that make the trouble." He went to the creature"s head, talked to it, stroked its nose, blew in its nostrils, and continued to talk till the ears no longer lay back at his touch.
Presently the eyes ceased rolling and the legs were not bracing nervously.
"Now," said Jim softly, "will you be after pulling a little? Yes? Come now," he coaxed wheedlingly, "come now," and he tightened the lines. But the horse shook his head, showed temper as before, and held back.
"Oh, that"s what ye want, is it?" said Jim. "All right, back up it is,"
and gently man[oe]uvring, he shouted: "Back!" Both horses backed. He kept them backing, and by deft steering, held the wagon in the road.
Back they went steadily. Now the baulky horse indicated his willingness to go on; but Jim wasn"t ready. It was back, back, and back some more.
For a hundred yards he kept it up. At last, when he changed about and gave the order to "Get up!" the one-time baulky horse was only too glad to change his gear and pull his very best. Jim took the load up the little hill, and on a quarter mile, where he waited for the original teamsters to come up.
"There, now," said Jim as he handed over the lines to the sullen driver, "you should have found that bunch of c.o.c.kle burrs. It was all your fault, not the horse"s. And if he hadn"t responded to the backing, I"d have tied a pebble in his ear and left him for a few minutes to think it over. Then he"d have gone all right; it never fails. I tell you there aren"t any baulky horses if they are rightly handled."
A cheer came from the buggies as the load of timber rolled away around the hill. As Hartigan got in beside Belle the two rigs came by. The men shouted, "Good for you! That was a fine job."
Jim blushed with pleasure; it was all so simple and familiar to him; but when he turned to look at Belle, she was white and ill. "Let"s go home, Jim," she whispered. He looked at her in some surprise; then slowly it dawned on him--she had never before seen the roughness of men fighting.
To him it was no more than the heavy sport of the football field. To her it was brutality unloosed; it was shocking, disgusting, next to murder.
With mingled feelings of regret, amus.e.m.e.nt, and surprise he said, "Dear heart, you take it all too seriously." Then he put his arm about her, tender as a woman, and a few minutes later placed her gently in the rocking chair in the white cottage.
CHAPTER XLIX
The Power of Personality
"Who is that?" said an elderly man in one of the buggies that pa.s.sed Hartigan after the adventure with the baulky horse.
"I think it"s the new preacher," said the driver. "Anyhow, we can easily see." They watched the buckboard with the black horse and saw it turn in at the white cottage.
"My guess was right, Mr. Hopkins," said the driver. "I haven"t been in church for two years, but I"m going to hear that fellow preach next Sunday, all right."
"Why don"t you go to church?" said the older man, who by his dress and manner was apparently some one of social importance.
"Oh, I dunno. I got out of the habit when I came out West," said the driver.
"Why do you want to hear this man?"
"Well, he kind o" makes one think he"s "some punkins." He"s a real man.
He ain"t just a sickly dough-lump as the bunch mostly is."
John Hopkins, President of the Dakota Flour and Milling Company, Regent of Madison University, man of affairs, philosopher and patron of a great many things, was silent for some time. He was pondering the question of the day and the light just thrown on it. Why don"t men go to church?
This Black Hills driver had answered: "Because the preachers are a bunch of dough-lumps." Whatever this might mean, it was, at best, a backhanded compliment to Hartigan. Yet, the driver was anxious to hear the new preacher. Why? Because he was impressed with his personality. It all resolved itself into that; the all-ruling law of personality. How wise, thought Hopkins, was the Church that set aside rules, dogmas, and scholastic attainments to make room for a teacher of real personality; such was the Founder"s power.
Along with the livery driver and a hundred more than the church could hold, Hopkins went that night to the Evangelical Church to hear Hartigan. The Preacher"s choice of hymns was martial; he loved the trumpets of the Lord. His prayers were tender and sincere; and his sermon on kindness--human kindness, spontaneous, for its own sake, not dictated by a creed--was a masterpiece of genuine eloquence. His face and figure were glorified in his effort. The story of his active sympathy with the injured horse had got about, and won the hearts of all. They came ready to love him, and--responding to the warm, magnetic influence--he blazed forth into the compelling eloquence that was native to his Celtic blood. He was gentle and impa.s.sioned; he spoke as never before. They heard him breathlessly; they loved his simple, Irish common sense. He held them in the hollow of his hands. The half hour allotted had been reached, and his story was told, and yet, not fully told. For a moment he paused, while his eyes sought a happy face in the nearest pew.
Belle gently drew her watch. Mindful of their careful plan, he stopped at the signal, raised his hands, and said, "Let us pray." With one great sigh, the congregation kneeled before him, and with him, in body and spirit, and prayed as they never before had prayed in Deadwood.
After the service the young preacher came forward to meet the people. He was uplifted and radiant with a sense of power, with all the magic influence of the place and thought; and they crowded round him, many with tears in their eyes.
An elderly man of polished manner pushed through the circle and shook him by the hand. "I"m a stranger in town," he said; "here"s my card. May I call on you to-morrow?"
"Certainly," said the Preacher. And the stranger disappeared.
There was a holy joy enveloping the little white cottage that night as they sat together reviewing the events of the day. "Don"t you see, Jim, how much better it was to stop then? It"s a thousand times better to have them go away saying: "Why did he stop so soon?" rather than: "Yes, wonderful, inspiring; but too long." They will now be keener than ever to hear you. You never spoke so well before. Oh, my dear, I was never so proud of you! Now I know, without a doubt, that you are a chosen vessel of the Lord."
He held her in his mighty arms and kissed the gold-brown hair. "It"s all your doing, Belle. I"m a rudderless ship without you." Then, after a long pause: "I"m thinking of my first visit to Deadwood."
She spoke no word, but pressed her frail face against the knotted muscles of his great throat and gently stroked his cheek.
CHAPTER L
The Call to Chicago
"Get up, you lazy giant; the breakfast is ready," she called from the dining room. In truth, he had been up to light the fire and chop some wood, but was now reading in bed.
"Jim, I want you to be prepared for something very important to-day. I have a presentiment that this means something." She held up the card that had been presented after the service the evening before, and read:
MR. JOHN HOPKINS, ENGLEWOOD, CHICAGO
"If he comes with a proposition, don"t accept it off-hand. Ask for a little while to consider."
Belle put on her smartest frock that morning and pressed Jim"s trousers and tied his necktie repeatedly till its form was right. With a very critical eye she studied his appearance and her own, and that of the house, from every angle. Why? Would any business man make note of such things? Detailed note, no; perhaps not. But the sum total of such trifles--expressing decorum, experience, worldly wisdom of the kind that makes itself felt as tact, and judgment that is better than genius as guarantee of success--would unquestionably produce its effect.
Promptly at ten thirty A.M., Mr. John Hopkins called. He apologized for the unseemly hour, but said he was leaving town at noon. His first impression of Belle was a very delightful one. He found her refined and cultured and he recalled the advice of a certain old bishop: "Never give a call to a clergyman unless you are satisfied to call his wife as well." There was no use denying it, the wife was as important as the preacher; she could build up or disrupt the congregation, and so she made a double problem; that is why Rome ruled the wives out altogether.
Mr. Hopkins was a citizen of the world; he approached the object of the visit gracefully, but without loss of time. The Evangelical Alliance needed a man of personality and power to carry on its work in the slums of South Chicago among the iron-workers. The church cared nothing about creeds or methods--applied no gauge but results; the best result was a diffusion of human kindness. The salary was twenty-five hundred a year, with one week vacation at Christmas and one month at midsummer. He, John Hopkins, as President of the Board of Deacons, was empowered to select a man, and now made formal offer of the post to the Rev. James Hartigan.
Mr. Hartigan might have a week to decide; but Mr. Hopkins would greatly prefer it if Mr. Hartigan could decide before noon that day when Mr.
Hopkins was leaving town. Until stage time he could be found at the Temperance House.
He rose quickly to go. Belle asked if he would, at his convenience, put the offer in writing, so that they might be clear as to details, indicating whether it was understood to be by the year and permanent, or for a time on approbation.