CHAPTER VII
He Gets a Much-needed Lesson
Many a man has been ruined by a high, unbroken level of success.Intellectually it makes for despotism and a conviction of infallibility.In the world of muscle, it creates a bully.
Young Jim was far from losing his interest in the ring, and he wasgrowing so big and strong that there were few in town who cared to puton the gloves with him. All that Bill Kenna had taught him, and more,was stored as valued learning. Kenna used to say, in his Irish vein:"There is twelve rules for to conduct yourself right in a shindy; thefirst is, get your blow in first; and, if ye live up to this, ye needn'tworry about the other iliven rules." Jim accepted this as fundamentaltruth and thereby became the aggressor in nearly every brawl.
His boiling, boisterous, animal nature grew with his body and herevelled in the things of brawn. He responded joyfully when he wascalled on to eject some rowdy from the bar-room, and begettingconfidence with each new victory, he began to have a vast opinion ofhimself. About this time a powerful rival of Downey's, known as theDummer House, claimed attention at the other end of town. One waslocated to catch the inbound from the west; the other, those from theeast. And when the owners were not at war, they kept at best an armedneutrality.
John Downey had delivered himself of some unhallowed hopes concerningthe rival house, and Jim, as he passed the opposition Inn on a certainevening, had the picturesque devastations vividly in mind. It sohappened that a masting team of oxen was standing patiently outsideawaiting the driver who was refreshing himself at the bar. A mastingteam consists of six to twelve strong, selected oxen, yoked two and twoto a mighty chain with which they can drag forth the largest pines thatare saved for masts. Jim's too-agile mind noted the several componentsof a new and delightful exploit: a crowd of noisy teamsters in a loghouse bar-room, a team of twelve huge, well-trained oxen on a chain, thelong, loose end of which lay near him on the ground. It was the work ofa minute to hook the chain around a projecting log of the house. Amoment more and he had the oxen on the go. Beginning with the foremostpair, he rushed down the line, and the great, heaving, hulkingshoulders, two and two, bent and heaved their bulk against the strain.The chain had scarcely time to tighten; no house could stand againstthat power. The huge pine log was switched out at one end as a man mightjerk a corn cob from its crib. The other end, still wedged in its place,held for a moment; but the oxen moved slowly on like a landslide. Thelog was wrenched entirely away and the upper part of the buildingdropped with a sullen "chock" to rest a little lower. There was a wilduproar inside, a shouting of men, a clatter of glass, and out rushed theflushed-faced rabble, astonished, frightened, furious to see the twelvegreat oxen solemnly marching down the street, trailing the missing log,the fragment of their house, while beside them, running, laughing,hooting, was a long-legged boy.
Jim's intention had been to clear out, but the trick proved soscreamingly funny that he stood for a minute to enjoy the scene. Shelveshad fallen and glasses had broken, but no person had been hurt. Therewas a moment's uncertainty; then with an angry shout the enraged patronsof the Dummer House swept forward. Jim discreetly fled. In the centre ofthe town friends appeared and in the street he turned to face hispursuers. Jim had already proved himself one of "the best men in Links"and it was with a new burst of hilarity that he wheeled about among hisbackers to give them "all they wanted." Instead of the expected generalonslaught, a method new to Jim was adopted. The teamsters of the DummerHouse held back and from their ranks there issued a square-jawed,bow-legged man, whose eye was cold, whose step was long and quick. Withthe utmost deliberation he measured Jim with his eye. Then he growled:
"Come on, ye ill-born pup. Now ye'll get what ye desarve."
The sporting instinct was strong in the crowd and the two were leftalone to fight it out. It took very little time. Jim had made amistake--a serious one. This was no simple teamster, guileless oftraining, who faced him, but a man whose life was in the outer circle ofthe prize ring. The thrashing was complete, and effective for severalweeks. Jim was carried home and ever after he bore upon his chin a scarthat was the record of the final knockout from the teamster's iron fist.
The catastrophe had several important compensations. The owner of theDummer House decided that the boy was punished enough, and took no legalproceeding against him. On his part, Jim began to think much moreseriously before giving reckless rein to his sense of humour. On thewhole, his respect for the rights of others was decidedly increased. Hisself-esteem shrunk to more normal proportions and if he thought of theincident at all it was to wish very earnestly that some day, somewhere,he might meet the teamster again on more even terms.
Unfortunately these salutory results were negatived some six monthslater by an event that took place in Downey's bar. It was Jim'sbirthday; he was eighteen and he announced it with pride.
"And here's where ye join us," said several.
"No, I don't care about it," said Jim.
"Ye ain't promise bound now, are ye?"
"No," replied Jim, "but----"
"Make him a sweet one with syrup and just a spoonful of the crather totake the curse off."
Refusing, protesting, half ashamed of his hesitation, Jim downed at agulp a fruity concoction, much to the delight of the assemblage. It wasnot so bad as he had expected it to be and the crowd roared at theexpression on his face.
"Ye're a man for yourself now, lad," said a woodsman clapping him on theshoulder. "Come boys, another round to Hartigan's health."
It could not be said of Jim that he was normal in anything. In a rareand multiplied degree he had inherited the full muscling and robustheart of his folk in both lines of forbears. It was a great inheritance,but it carried its own penalty. The big animal physique holds a cravingfor strong drink. Physical strength and buoyancy are bound up with thelove of bacchanalian riot. Jim had given his word to abstain from liquoruntil he was of age; he had kept it scrupulously. Now he had tasted ofit the pendulum swung full to the other side. That was his nature. Hisworld might be a high world or a low world; whichever sphere he moved inhe practised no half-way measures.
From that eighteenth birthday Jim Hartigan waged ceaseless warfarewithin himself. During the early days he was an easy victim. Then came ashock that changed the whole aspect of his life, and later one stoodbeside him who taught him how to fight. But until those events tookplace, the town of Links knew him for what he was, a reckless,dare-devil youth, without viciousness or malice, but ripe for anyextravagance or adventure. His pranks were always begun in fun though itwas inevitable that they should lead to serious consequences. It wasadmitted by his severest critics that he had never done a cruel or acowardly thing, yet the constant escapades and drinking bouts in whichhe was ever the leader earned him the name of Wild Jim Hartigan.
After each fresh exploit his abject remorse was pitiful. And so, littleby little, a great nature was purged; his spirit was humbled bysuccessive and crushing defeats. At first the animal rebound wassufficient to set him on his feet unashamed. But during the fourth yearafter his coming of age, an unrest, a sickness of soul took possessionof Jim and no wildness sufficed to lift this gloom. And it was infrantic rebellion against this depression that he entered upon hismemorable visit to the Methodist revival.
BOOK II
THE CONVERSION
The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country Page 8