one off to his
conference, determined himself to perform the marriage ceremony as
directed in the Church of England Prayer-Book.

"You see, Reuben," he said, "I have a great respect for the Church, and
would fain have had this matter knocked off by one of its parsons, but
as this parson appears to be little better than a wolf in sheep's
clothing--if as good--I'll just do it myself, for I'll not have my
daughter's wedding delayed another day for any man, woman, or beast
alive."

"Wouldn't it be as well, sir," suggested the hunter modestly, "to have a
hunt after the parson by daylight first?"

"No, it wouldn't," said the old trader, with the air and decision of--we
were going to say the great Mogul, but perhaps it would be more emphatic
and appropriate to say--The MacFearsome.

Knowing that appeal from that decision would be in vain, Reuben once
more arrayed himself in the wedding dress, (which he had changed when
the search for Mr Tucker was undertaken), and once again presented
himself before his admiring friends in the decorated hall of Mac's Fort.
The cook warmed up his gigantic pie, old Fiddlestrings re-tuned his
home-made violin, and pretty little Loo at last appeared on the scene
with two half-breed young women as bridesmaids, and two Indian females
as backers-up.

"My friends," said Kenneth MacFearsome, taking up the prayer-book, and
commencing a speech which he had spent the entire forenoon in preparing,
"I have a few words to say to you on this interesting occasion."

The old gentleman's usually stern and handsome countenance had relaxed,
and assumed a bland, sweet expression, which was more consonant with the
circumstances in which they were assembled. Before he could utter
another word, however, he was interrupted, to his great surprise, by
Reuben.

"Excuse me, Mr MacFearsome," said that bold though bashful hunter, "but
my friend and comrade, Jacob Strang, has not yet arrived, and it would
grieve me to the heart if he was absent at such a time as this.
Couldn't we wait a bit? I wouldn't ask you to do so for any other man
alive, but I've hunted wi' him since we were slips of boys, and--and I
can't help thinkin' that somethin's gone wrong wi' him, for Jacob's good
and true, and trusty as steel, an' wasn't used to fail in his
engagements."

While the hunter was speaking the bland expression faded from the
Highlander's countenance, and a fierce look flashed from his blue eyes
as he replied in stern, d