The Preacher of Cedar Mountain Part 10

The Preacher knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again and much louder. There was a moment's silence. Then a heavy voice:

"Who's there?"

"It's me," was the unhelpful reply.

A man moved to the door again demanding:

"Who's there?"

"It's a friend who wants to join you."

There was some discussion, then the door was cautiously opened. The man inside got a glimpse of the tall form of the Preacher, let off a savage snarl and oath, and attempted to slam the door. But he was not quick enough; the Preacher got his foot in and pushed irresistibly. There were curses from within and others came to help. But the Preacher was too much for them; the door went back with a clatter and he stood in the middle of the room. The rude log cabin held five men, three women, and a table on which was a small keg of whiskey and some gla.s.ses. The keg had not yet been opened, and the gla.s.ses were empty.

"What do you want here?" growled the biggest of the men, advancing threateningly.

"Sure, I am here to spill that accursed stuff on the ground and hold a prayer meeting in the hopes of saving your souls," was the answer.

"Get to h--l out of this and mind your own business," he said, fingering an ugly knife he had s.n.a.t.c.hed from the table.

Hartigan did not move. As the big brute edged in, not at all quickly, for the fight was scarcely yet on, Hartigan landed a swift football drop kick under the hand that held the knife. The weapon was dashed up to the ceiling and stuck s.h.i.+vering in the logs, while its owner stumbled and fell with a growl of pain, one hand hanging helpless. Two other men rushed to the attack. They had no weapons, and the Preacher man[oe]uvred to take them singly. With two chops and an undercut he laid them on their backs, and the remaining men refrained from declaring war.

"Sure now," said the Preacher, as he looked calmly around, "I regret to have the meeting open so unrestful, when it was my intention to start it with a prayer, followed by a hymn with all of you joining in. But you seemed to want it this way and, of course, I had to humour you. Now I will begin by pouring out a drink offering on the altar of G.o.d."

He stepped toward the keg. It was unopened. He raised it in his hands and dashed it down on the floor. It bounded up unhurt. Realizing his purpose for the first time, the men gave vent to savage oaths backed by an a.s.sertion of property rights. Then, seeing that he was undeterred, they set upon him with a rush.

Jim, it must be confessed, found a new joy in that new attack. It gave him a chance to work off his superabundant energy. The confined s.p.a.ce of the cabin was in his favour. He blocked all attempts to encompa.s.s him, while his mighty arms did terrific execution, and when the finish came it showed the would-be revellers lying around in various positions eloquent of defeat.

"Sure, it's mighty sorry I am, but I have to tend to my job."

Going to the fireplace, and picking up one of the bricks used to support the logs, he smashed in the head of the keg and spilled the odorous contents on the floor. The final splash he threw toward the fire, expecting to see it blaze into a blue flame, but it acted as water and the room was filled with an evil stench. The Preacher knew what it meant; his contemptuous "Humph!" expressed it all.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, as the tallest of the ruffians moved to the door.

"You mind your own business. I am going home," was the answer.

"Come back and join us, we're going to have a prayer meeting," and Jim stepped over to the door.

"Now get down on your knees, all of ye," and he himself kneeled. The little man and two of the women followed his example.

"Get down on your knees!" the Preacher thundered to those standing. The big fellow had got a stick of firewood for a weapon and, despite his crippled right hand, was disposed to fight.

"Oh, ho! s.h.i.+llelah play," chuckled Hartigan, "that's an ould, ould game with me."

He rose and picked up a leg of the table broken off during the struggle.

It was not a heavy club, but it was in skilful hands. There is one move of the s.h.i.+llelah that the best experts have trouble to parry, that is the direct thrust. The slash right and the slash left, the overhead or the undercut have a simple answer; but the end-on straight thrust is baffling. Jim knew this of old, and a moment later the big woodsman was on the floor with a b.l.o.o.d.y nose, a sense of shock, and a disposition to surrender.

"Now come, every one of ye, and join in our prayer meeting. Come on," he beckoned to the other two, "or it will be me duty to knock sense into ye."

And so he gathered that graceless group around him. Kneeling in their midst, he prayed for help to make them see that he wanted to be their friend, that he was acting for their interests, that he knew as well as they did the hankering for drink.

"O Lord, you know. And I know that anyway that stuff was not whiskey at all, at all; that it would not burn in the fire, and I'll bet it would freeze if it were put out of doors"; and having contributed these expert remarks, he closed with, "Amen."

"And now we will sing a hymn," and he led them in "Come to Jesus." But it was not a success, so he fell back on the praying, which was his specialty, and more than once his congregation joined in with an "amen."

Sulky Big Pat had to be threatened again, for he was of fighting stock; but the prayer meeting closed without further hostilities and the orgy had been made physically impossible. As he rose, Hartigan said in his inimitable way:

"Now, friends, I want to apologize to you all for seeming uncivil, but there are times when a man has to be a little abrupt, and if I have hurt your feelings or annoyed you in any way I am very sorry for it, because I'd rather be friends. Let's shake hands before I leave, and I will be glad to see any of you in church."

Then a strange thing happened. The little man had shaken hands effusively, the big one sulkily, but there was one there who took the Preacher's hand warmly and in a husky voice said:

"Mr. Hartigan, I want you to know you have made me think different. I am coming to church. I know you are right." Then turning to a woman by his side: "This is my wife--she feels as I do."

"Thank you for coming to-night," said the woman. "You _will_ pray for us, won't you? We will try; only it is terribly hard, once you have taken on the habit."

"Sure, it's myself that knows it," said Hartigan. "I've been through it all, I tell you."

There was a brotherly warmth in the Preacher's handclasp and in his words as he turned to go out in the calm and beautiful blue night. The Black Hills' coyotes howled and Blazing Star whinnied a mild remonstrance at the long desertion. The Preacher mounted and as he swung lightly down the wagon trail, he had a sense of joy, of triumph, of uplift that had seldom been his. Here for the first time he had put his great physical strength to the service of the new life. It was a consecration, so to speak, of his bodily powers. And overtopping this was another happiness, which, he was just beginning to realize, completely filled his thoughts these days: the prospect of crowning each day's adventures by telling them all to Belle.

CHAPTER XVI

The New Insurance Agents

Woman's suffrage was a disturbing question in the West of the '80's and it had not by any means pa.s.sed Cedar Mountain by. There was more than one fiery dispute among the "perchers" of s.h.i.+ves's shop, where Jim was very fond of dropping in. Indeed the smithy was the public forum of the town.

Hartigan had very strong views, of the oldest and most conservative type, on the sphere of woman--notwithstanding the fact that his mother had been the capable leader of men. He did not say much about this; but he a.s.sumed that the absence of his father was the sole cause of his mother's dominance. He was fond of quoting St. Paul: "Let your women keep silence in the churches ... it is a shame for women to speak in the church" (I Cor. XIV:34-35), and from this he argued that silence was woman's only duty in all public matters of administration, because it accorded with her limitations.

s.h.i.+ves, being twice as old, was much less certain. He could cite Cleopatra, Catherine of Russia, Catherine de' Medici, and other familiar names to prove the woman's power; to which Hartigan replied:

"And a fine moral lot they were! Was ever power put to more devilish use?"

This was a jibe and not an answer. But it caused a laugh, and that always counts in debate. Then, with singular blindness to the fact that he himself was at the time being guided by a certain young woman, Jim issued his challenge:

"If you can show me a couple that started fair and square together on equal footing and didn't end with the man as head and leader in everything to do with fighting the battle of life, I'll give in--I'm licked."

Two mornings later, Dr. Carson was standing outside his office door, when he heard a quick stride on the boardwalk and the gay voice of the Preacher singing "Roy's Wife of Aldivallock."

"The top of the morning to ye, Doc," was his cheery greeting; and the doctor answered:

"Say, Jim, come here. I've got a good one for you. This is a brand-new one." They walked down the boardwalk to the place where most of the offices were and there read on a newly placed signboard the legend:

"John and Hannah Higginbotham, Insurance Agents."

"How is that?" said Carson, as he lit a cigar.

"Well, I'll be--surprised," was the answer.