asterpiece of the simple eloquence that was so much his gift and of the
humour that was the birthright of his race.

From that day forth the doubtful impressions created by Hartigan's first
appearance in the pulpit were wiped out and he was reckoned as a new and
very potent force in the community.

CHAPTER XIV

The Lure of the Saddle

One of the needs that Hartigan very soon became aware of in his
far-flung pastoral work was that of a good saddle horse. An income of
three hundred dollars a year will not maintain very much in the way of a
stable, but a horse had to be got, and the idea of looking for one was
exceedingly pleasant to him. It needed but the sight and smell of the
horse leathers to rouse the old passion bred and fostered in Downey's
stable. He loved the saddle, he knew horses as few men did, and had he
been ninety pounds lighter he would have made a famous jockey.

For many days he was able to put his mind on nothing else. He eagerly
took every chance to visit likely stock; he was never so happy as when
he was astride of some mettlesome animal, interpreting its moods as only
the born horseman can do, and drawing on the reserves of strength which
are closed to all but the expert rider. He responded in every fibre of
his great physique to the zest of this renewed experience of a loved and
lost stable life, and yet the very passion of his enjoyment appalled him
at times for it seemed to be in some sense a disloyalty to the new life
he had taken up and to draw him away from it.

In those days there were motley bands of immigrants crossing the plains
from the East, making for the Black Hills as an island of promise in the
great open sea, and one of these wanderers from far-off Illinois arrived
one evening with the usual outfit of prairie schooner, oxen, milch cow,
saddle horses, dogs, and children. Calamity had overtaken the caravan.
The mother had died; the father was disgusted with the country and
everything in it; and his one idea was to sell his outfit and get the
children back East, back to school and granny. At the auction, the
cattle brought good prices, but no one wanted the horses. They were
gaunt and weary, saddle-and spur-galled; one young and the other past
middle life. It was the young horse that caught Hartigan's eye. It was
rising three, a well-built skeleton, but with a readiness to look alert,
a full mane and tail, and a glint of gold on the coat that had a meaning
and a message for