"Look," said Farallone.
The groom was reaching for the fallen revolver.
"Drop it," bellowed Farallone.
The groom's hand, which had been on the point of grasping the revolver's stock, jerked away. The bride walked to the revolver and picked it up. She handed it to Farallone.
"Now," she said, "that all the power is with you, you will not go on abusing it."
"You carry it," said Farallone, "and any time you think I ought to be shot, why, you just shoot me. I won't say a word."
"Do you mean it?" said the bride.
"I cross my heart," said Farallone.
"I sha'n't forget," said the bride. She took the revolver and dropped it into the pocket of her jacket.