to such festivities, I pleaded
our poverty, and dire need of keeping free from debt. Although born in
the Labrador, he had been a cow-boy in Texas for half his working life.
As a stockman, he was to wed a rancher's widow. Was he ashamed of his
business? No, proud as Lucifer! Was he ashamed of the dress of his
trade? Not by a damned sight! Soldiers and sailors are proud to wear the
dress of their trade when they marry. "So are cow-punchers," said he,
with his head in the air. "S'pose we ride to Cariboo City, and get
married in that little old log church."

He managed to persuade me; and I consented also to a hunting trip,
instead of the usual honeymoon.

When I was well enough for the journey, I rode my colt, and Jesse his
demon mare--Jones--my sole rival, I think, except that dreadful bear, in
his affections. Two pack-ponies carried our camp and baggage, and each
night he would set up a little tent for me, bedding himself down beside
the fire. At the end of five days' journey, we rode at dusk into
Cariboo.

Captain Taylor, of Hundred Mile House, and Pete Mathson, the _cargador_
of the Star Pack-train, two old stanch friends of Jesse, witnessed our
marriage in the quaint log building which served the Cariboo miners as
church and schoolhouse. The Reverend Cyril Redfern, pioneer and
missionary, read the service, while our ponies waited just outside the
door. Jesse wore his plain old leather shaps, a navy blue shirt, a scarf
of ruby silk against his tanned neck, and golden Mexican spurs--his
dearest treasure. He must have known he looked magnificent, for he
carried himself with such quiet dignity, and his deep voice thrilled me,
for it was music. I could hardly respond for crying, and would gladly
have been alone afterward in the church that I might thank God for all
His mercy.

Captain Taylor is a retired naval officer, a pioneer of the gold mines,
a magistrate, a man to trust, and when he gave me his heartfelt
congratulations, it was not without knowledge of Jesse's character. He
and Pete, the _cargador_, rode with us to the camp of his Star
Pack-train, and it was there in the forest that we ate our wedding
breakfast. The blue haze of Indian summer, the serene splendor of the
sunlit woods, and autumn snow on all the shining hills--such was our
banquet hall, and a rippling brook our orchestra. We drank healths in
champagne from tin cups, and then, saddling up, Jesse and I rode away
alone into the solitudes.

C