The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1898-10-02

its counterpart III lelii'hi ht'Ni0
- case in South Dakota that fur
nishes the theme for thrilling
story TO the New York Herald from
Fairfax. It is a story OF the career OF
Rev. Myron Hilgard, evangelist, cattle
thief, highwayman and jail breaker.
The most vivid flights of the magma
tfon of the lurid border fiction writer
could scarcely conceive anything more
picturesque than Rev. Mr. Hllgaro' WINE
his adventures are full of daring ana
,audacity equally striking.
:. A preacher by day and a masked
highwayman by night, he managed TO
deceive his trusting flock for -FOUR
years The climax finally came when
:: he was caught red handed, narrowly
escaped lynching, was jailed ana es-
caped after a murderous assault on his
. keeper that landed him Tree man
once more. This is the Fairfax CORE
spondent's story:
Rev, AIvron HiIgard came to these
narts in 1894 He just dropped down
IN Bonesteel one autumn day ana an
. nounced that he had come to settle ana
grow up with the country. be haq ms
wife and thEee little children with MN,
and they VIDE all a pretty likely lot for
these parts In 1894 Gregory county
which looks on the map like a big shoe,
made by the curves OF the missouri
River at the extreme southern poiueL
Of the State, was 'in its infancy: Grup
was scarce and crops were a deluslon
and a snare.
q am the Rev. MyrOn Hilgard, he
announced to the curious, and these,
with a wave of his hand which 1nclud-
ed the balance of the Hilgard famlly,
these are my pearls. man may
have pearls in this life, but he should
lay up his gifts in heaven, and strive
to gain the pearl without price L
have come to preach the~gespel among
you"
:'One-eyed Ike" whose other name is
Perkins. one of Nicholas Hammtl's COW
punchers, happened to be in the post
office when the stranger delivered him
self of his Introductory speech. Ike
never ,minces his words, and on this ocs
casion he chimed right in.
We'll, parson," he remarked, / rec
kon you've just about struck the right
spot Everything around these parts
seems goin' right plumb ter hell, an l
reckon the only thing that can be saved
is souls So pitch right in, an Wen
ante in every Sunday ter help ye
along"
The clerical stranger grasped the
. hard hand of the cowboy in his own
: soft one God bless you, my noble
brother" he exclaimed, God bless
you"
.Rather aDaSneQ at IulS unexpected
outburst,- Ike blushed to the roots of
his sandy hair and SUNK off into the
: crowd. This was four years ago. One
day last week I met him just in from
HammiPs ranch. He had been drink
ing heavily. I was amazed, for he
hadn't touched a drop in long time.
In fact, he was popularity supposed to
have gotten religion. He, IN common
with others. had come under the spell
of the Rev. Myron Hilgard.
He was undeniably drunk, and as
approached him I noticed that he was
engaged in the remarkable pastime of
splitting on his own hand. When
asked what he was doing he looked at
me in a most maudlin manner and re-
marked:
."An' ter think was the first man in
this county ter shake him by the hand.
The viper! The four flush, double
tongued hypocrite!"
He held his hand off at arms length,
gazed reproachfully at that offending
member and again deliberately spat in
his palm. I knew without asking that
he referred to the Rev. Myron Hilgard.
But Ike was not alone in the feeling
of resentment against the man who