s leading up to this event had been
sufficiently interesting to demand sobriety. St. Ange did not believe in
putting on airs, but it had its own ideas of decorum; things had sort of
dovetailed lately, and, according to Leon Tate, "it was up to them to
spread eagle and plant their banner for knowing a good thing from a
rotten egg."

Leon was above consistent figures of speech. He had power of his own
that controlled even language.

[Illustration: "ONCE I WENT SO FAR AS TO GO UP THERE WITH MY GUN"]

After Jared Birkdale had defied Leon in his own stronghold, and, instead
of agreeing with Tate that Joyce had come to Isa as to a mother, had
insisted upon bare, unglorified fact, he had betaken himself into
oblivion. Tate was confronted with the predicament of having a helpless
girl on his hands to do for--unless another man was forthcoming.

Jude rose to the occasion. He confided to Jock Filmer his desire for
immediate marriage, and good-natured Jock, his system permeated by
gossip, consented to send down to the Junction--since Joyce objected to
the hell-fire minister at Hillcrest--and bring a harmless wayfarer of
the cloth, who Murphy, the engineer of the daily branch train, had said,
was summering there.

"He's a lean, blighted cuss," Murphy had explained; "what God intended
for an engineer, but Nature stepped in and flambasted his constitootion,
and so he took to preaching--that not demanding no bodily strength.

"He comes pottering round the engine, using the excuse of saving my
soul, and I don't let on that I see through him. I give him pints about
the machinery; and if I tell him he can ride in the cab with me
anywhere, he'd marry a girl, or bury a tramp, if he had to go to hell to
do it."

So Jock detailed Murphy to decoy the side-tracked gentleman at the
Junction up to St. Ange.

The stranger was expected on the afternoon train, and Tate had the
guest room of the Black Cat in readiness.

Jock had lazed about the Station since noon. The wedding preparations
bored him, and the train's delay angered him.

"See here!" he exploded to Tom Smith, the agent, "ain't it stretching a
point too far when that gol-durned train gives herself four hours'
lee-way?"

Tom spat with dignity, and remarked casually:

"Long as she ain't likely to meet any train going down, seems to me
there ain't any use to git warmer than is necessary."

"If she keeps on," drawled Jock, "she'll have a head-on collision with
herself some d