By the side of the church there was a piece of scantling about the size and length of a baseball bat. Lalla picked it up and waded into that mob like an Amazon.
Biff! the scantling struck a head and the owner of the head ceased operations and sank heavily to the ground. Biff! Biff! Biff! Like Father Time with his scythe, Lalla mowed the men down, or made such a deep impression on their minds that they were glad to retire.
At last she worked her way down to where poor Sour Sudds lay. But he did not lie there very long. Recalling his duplicity and deceit with reference to the marriage ceremony, and appalled at the dexterity with which Lalla handled her club, he rose from that spot, broke the world record for a hundred yard dash, and disappeared in the woods, still running.
Tickfall saw him no more.
Lalla turned, walked across the grass to where the marriage license lay upon the ground and picked it up.
She glanced at it, laughed, then carried it up close to the camera and held it so Rouke and Pellet could see it, and the all-seeing eye of the clicking machine might record it on the film.
It was a legal document issued by the City of New Orleans, Parish of Orleans, State of Louisiana.
It was signed and sealed by John Flournoy, Sheriff of Tickfall Parish, and an incorrigible practical joker.
It was a Dog License!