Now, my theory is that each man can do
some one thing better than any one else; and, if he has the luck to have
that one thing for his life calling, he's going to make a success. You
know horses better than any man I know. You knew enough to steal my
team, for example, when you meant to elope."

"Now, see here," Hartigan objected.

"Don't interrupt me," said Carson. "Jim, this is my honest advice: get
out of this rotten little town. Go to Deadwood, or any other big, rotten
town, and start in on the horse business and something will happen worth
while."

Jim's eyes glowed. It was curious how the word "horse" fascinated him.
"I'll surely take the first two moves you advise: I'll get out of this
town and I'll go to Deadwood. But----" He stopped. He didn't say it, but
he had given his "wurd as a mahn" long ago that his life should be
devoted to the Church.

Little Peaches was there in a very high collar and sang, "Jerusalem the
Golden," till tears came to the eyes of the audience. As he began the
third score, Colonel Waller and his staff arrived. The old soldier's
eyes gleamed as he measured the tall, straight form of the Preacher.
"Well, Jim, can't I persuade you to enlist? We need a few like you."

"Sure, I'm enlisted now," was the reply, "and going to the front; and
when I am gone, don't forget my horse."

"Ha, ha! We are not likely to," said the Colonel. "The wisest thing you
ever did for yourself was when you sold him."

As the party began to break up Hannah Higginbotham plucked Jim's sleeve
and whispered: "If John comes chasing you with a scheme, don't pay any
attention to him. He'd try to talk business if you were both swimming
for your lives; but a week from now, we'll come to see you at Deadwood.
I've fixed it up with Belle."

As Jim waited for Belle, who was having a few last words with Mrs. Jebb,
Charlie Bylow came rather shyly forward with his wife. "Mr. Hartigan,
I've got a good team now; in case there is any moving to do, I'd like to
do it for you." And then as if he thought Jim might not understand he
said: "We owe a lot to you and we'd like a chance to pay it back."

There was one old acquaintance that did not turn up. That was Lou-Jane
Hoomer. Probably she was busy packing her trunk for the visit to
Rochester; at any rate, upon her return from the East, she joined the
Congregationalists, where she sang regularly in the choir and soon made
such an impression on the baritone that they found increasi