hat you've got it over at last. How did it feel?"

"Feel!" echoed the hunter, "it felt as bad, or wuss, nor the time that
grizzly bar up the Yellowstone River got his claws into the small o' my
back--only I hadn't you to help me out o' the difficulty this time. I
had to do it all myself, Jacob, and hard work it was, I tell 'ee, boy.
Hows'ever, it's all over now, an' we're to be spliced this evenin'."

"That's raither sharp work, ain't it, Reuben?" said Jacob, with a
critical wrinkle of his eyebrows, and a remonstrative tone in his voice.
"I ain't much of an authority on sitch matters, but it do seem to me as
if you might have given the poor gal a day or two to make sure whether
her head or heels was uppermost."

"You're right, Jacob; you're judgment was always sound, but, you see, I
was forced to do it slick off because the parson won't wait another day,
an' I'd like to have it done all ship-shape, for I've a respec' for the
parsons, you see. A man who's come straight down from the Pilgrim
Fathers, like me, behoves to act discreetly--so, the weddin's to be this
evenin'."

"Well, you are the best judge, Reuben, an' it's as well that it should
come off when old Fiddlestrings is here, for a weddin' without a fiddle
ain't much of a spree. By good luck, too, there's the lads from Buffalo
Creek at the fort just now, so we'll muster strong. No, I wouldn't give
much for a weddin' without a good dance--not even yours, Reuben."

That afternoon The MacFearsome arranged with the Reverend William Tucker
to delay his departure for one day in order to unite his only daughter
Loo to Reuben Dale.

"You must know, Mr Tucker," he explained, in a slightly apologetic
tone, "although Reuben is only a hunter, his parents were gentlefolks.
They died when Reuben was quite a little fellow, so that he was allowed
to run wild on a frontier settlement, and, as a matter of course, took
to the wilderness as naturally as a young duck takes to the water. But
Reuben is a superior person, Mr Tucker, I assure you, and as fine a
disposition as you could wish. He's as bold as a lion too, and has
saved my girl's life twice, and my own three times--so, you see, he--"

"He deserves a good wife," said the Reverend William Tucker heartily.

"Just so," replied the old trader, wrinkling his fierce yet kindly face
with a bland smile, "and you'll confer a great favour on me if you will
stay and perform the ceremony. Of course, according to Scotch law,