he fork from him. The fat man was white with rage.
He blustered a good deal and finally went off sputtering comically
although he used no cuss-words.

That evening Jim and Belle went to the Salvation Army barracks, with the
fixed intention of taking part in the worship as fully as might be
permitted. On their arrival Jim was utterly surprised to find that the
uniformed Captain in command was the fat little fury of the street
episode; and still more astonished when that rotund person peremptorily
ordered him out of the building. As the rest of the Salvationists
dutifully supported their Captain, Jim had no choice, and with a feeling
of sadness that was not shared by Belle, he turned out into the street.

There are many drives about Deadwood, but not many good roads. The
scenery, not the pavement, is the allurement; and in the morning, the
young couple took a short drive to learn the trails. They had not gone a
mile when they were brought to a standstill by a lumber wagon stuck in
the middle of the narrow road and quite immovable. It was not the weight
of the load or the fault of the road, but because one of the horses was
on strike--he baulked and refused absolutely to pull. Held up by the
blockade, on the other side, were two buggies with men and women.

The teamster was just a plain, every-day bungler. He began by urging the
obstinate horse with voice and whip; but at each fresh application the
creature merely laid back his ears, shook his head, and set his feet
more resolutely against all progress. At last the driver worked himself
into a rage. He lashed the horse with all his strength, the only effect
being to leave long lines on the animal's coat and cause him to kick out
frantically with his hind feet.

"Man alive!" said Jim, leaving Belle's side and walking forward, "that's
no way to handle a horse. Let me----"

A volume of abuse interrupted him. "You go on and mind your d--n
business," said the teamster. "I'm taking care of this." In
uncontrollable fury he beat the horse over the head with the butt end of
his whip till it broke in two.

"See here, if you don't stop that I'll take a hand in it!" shouted Jim,
thoroughly aroused.

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