“Fourteen,” called out Cyrus who took it from her. Timothy Forbes laughed sheepishly and moved to the back of the room. A second slip was produced. “Seven,” announced Cyrus. Pike Smith gave an impatient “Tchut!” but remembered that there were four more chances left for him and assumed his confident air.
Twenty-two was the next number, which had such an effect upon Matt Cochran that he strode out and would have slammed the door if he could. At seventy-eight Lew Phelps looked gloomily down at his boots.
Then there was a pause before the last drawing. Jabez moved so that his small spare figure was silhouetted against the dancing flames. Pike Smith drew himself up to the full height of his six feet two. Ira fixed his eyes on Louisa. Below the handkerchief which bound the girl’s eyes her cheeks glowed brilliantly. She lingered so long that some one laughed nervously and Cyrus said sharply, “Hurry up, Lou.” She caught her breath as her hand under the handkerchief found the little duplicate slip which she had taken the precaution to hide in the lining of her father’s old hat. She drew it forth slowly. It was withdrawn from her cold shaking fingers by her father who looked at it, paused, looked again, and then read out reluctantly: “Twenty-seven!”
In an instant Louisa sprang to her feet, pushed back the bandage from her eyes, turned to the fire and dashed the remaining slips into the flames. These leaped up and cast a bright glow upon the glad face of Ira Korner, who grasped the girl’s hands in his and triumphantly faced the room.
CHAPTER XI
LOU’S WEDDING
SUCH a cheer as went up, when, the suspense over, every one was aware of the result of the drawing. Hannah Maria was the first to rush up with congratulations to Ira. Never before had she been so closely concerned in a romance, and that it had turned out so well was beyond her dearest hopes. Alison and Christine were scarcely more pleased than fat, good-natured, sentimental Hannah Maria. Since the annexation of Texas to the United States the time had passed when the presence of a padre was necessary to legalize a marriage, and so it was hoped that there would be no delay in the wedding, as Judge Jackson had been notified by his friend Jabez Manypenny to be present, and was promptly on hand to perform the ceremony for Ira and Louisa, to Jabez’ discomfiture and Pike’s rage.
Though matters had turned out very differently from what Cyrus had expected he could say nothing, for there were too many witnesses to the transaction for him to attempt to back out of his agreement, and, moreover, he knew that a very determined set of men would permit nothing less than the carrying out of the scheme he himself had arranged. The fact that Ira held a number came as a surprise to him, and he began to bluster about it to Bud, claiming that it was not fair, and that the drawing should be done over again, but he was so fiercely turned upon by half a dozen big fellows that he perceived the wisdom of letting the matter rest. At first he hoped there would be some way of deferring the marriage, and that he could evolve some plan by which Ira could be sent out of the way. He knew Pike would hesitate at nothing, and, for a moment, in the sharpness of his disappointment, he had a wild notion of getting Pike’s help in abducting Louisa or Ira, but, to his credit be it said, he was reluctant to allow his daughter to marry such a scamp as he knew Pike to be, and when all insisted that there should be no delay in the ceremony he acquiesced with as good a grace as could be expected.
The old judge in long boots, flannel shirt, and with untrimmed beard, elbowed his way through the crowd of giggling girls clustered together in the middle of the room. Hannah Maria, in her element, whispered suggestions to the bridal party. The company lined up leaving a passageway for John and Christine, Alison and Blythe Van Dorn, acting as bridesmaids and groomsmen and preceding Ira and Louisa, the latter in gay calico gown. The old judge wasted no time, and in a remarkably short space of time Louisa was Mrs. Ira Korner. Then the witnesses pressed forward to offer congratulations. All but two had a hearty word to say. Jabez Manypenny did not tarry, but sneaked out the door before the ceremony was over and, mounting his horse, rode home, meditating upon the uncertainty of human hopes. Pike Smith, gnashing his teeth in rage, kept watch in the darkness of the pine woods near at hand.
“When we started out this morning you didn’t expect to be a married man before night, did you, Ira?” said John, giving his companion in arms a hearty slap on the shoulder.
“I didn’t exactly count on it,” said Ira.