The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country

by Ernest Thompson Seton

Every new town in America has the same set routine of experience. It springs up on land selected and laid out by a real estate speculator. The flimsiest and most combustible of buildings are rushed up. When the town has about five thousand inhabitants and these fire-trap buildings are close enough to burn one another, a fire breaks out and sweeps the whole thing away, destroying human lives, valuable stock, and priceless records; after which begins the epoch of brick buildings and fire prevention.

Cedar Mountain had not reached the size or compactness required for the wipe-out when its baptism of fire took place. Hartigan was roused in the night by a noise outside. Going to the window, he saw the sky filled with the glare of fire. As quickly as possible, he dressed and ran forth, becoming deeply agitated when he found that the fire was in the hotel whose stable housed Blazing Star. It was with a dreadful heartsink that he ran there. The stable was smoking, but not yet afire, and, with a thankful heart, he hurried Blazing Star forth, got him away to a safe place, and returned just in time to see the stable and all its immovable contents go up in a ruddy roar as the hay and straw took fire.

There were no human lives lost; nor any dwellings other than the hotel—for there was a clear space around that fire-trap and there had been no wind—but it was a valid baptism of fire. It resulted in the organization of a Volunteer Fire Brigade, and it also resulted in Hartigan's determination to erect a stable of his own, where he could have his horse under his eye, day and night. What he built was not a large stable, only ten by twelve feet, of rough pine lumber, with tar-paper weather-proofing and no floor, but he did it entirely with his own hands at a material cost of twelve dollars; and he put his soul into it. There were two stalls, one for Blazing Star and one for supplies. There was much good-humoured jesting at the "Horse Preacher" while the stable was building and the story went the rounds that he often used the empty stall for a study, in preference to the silent little room in the house. In any case, he hand-picked the hay to guard against the poisonous loco-weed, and washed the oats, to shut out any possibility of smut.

Immediately after the fire Higginbotham began to talk business to Jim. A mutual affection had grown up and the little agent and his wife had early become prominent in the church. As deacon, Higginbotham rendered good service, although it was noted that his judgment was always best after he had talked matters over at home. He was not averse to using his church connection for business purposes. In fact, he had been heard to say that the Church itself was chiefly a huge fire insurance company, taking risks for the next world instead of this. On the morning after the fire, he was up betimes to sail with the wind, to take advantage of the stir-up that the public mind had got; and he secured a lot of new business.

"Now, Mr. Hartigan, why don't you insure that horse of yours? Just think where you would have been if you hadn't got him out in time last night. Why, I knew a man who bought a horse for fifty dollars in the morning, insured him for two hundred and fifty dollars at noon, and next night he was burnt up. The very next day he got his check for two hundred and fifty dollars. That's the way our company does business; all in twenty-four hours."

The idea of a joyful profit out of Blazing Star's incinerated remains was distinctly unpleasant, much like asking a mother to realize on her baby, and Hartigan took out no policy, but it had the effect of making him try to set a market value on the horse.

It was late in the season now, October was nearly gone; but still he and Belle rode forth together.

"What is next Sunday's lesson?" was Belle's very usual question. "Well," said Hartigan, "I came across a text that filled me with joy. 'When Amaziah, King of Judah, was murdered,' it says, 'They brought him upon horses and buried him with his fathers in the city of Judah.'

"Brought him on horses. What a picture, Belle! Just think of that royal stiff strapped square across the backs of four fine horses, all bridled together, and then driven madly across the desert, through the land of the freebooting Arabs, who would be more than apt to seize the corpse and hold it for a ransom. What a race! You bet they had horses then! They were Arab stock all right. I wonder no artist ever put that royal funeral on canvas. How does it strike you, Belle?"

"Wild enough and picturesque enough for the Black Hills; but I don't seem to get the lesson, I might almost add another text to your list: 'A horse is a vain thing for safety.'" Then, suddenly, she said: "Have you seen Colonel Waller lately?"