They could not help moving their feet in accord to the tune of the fiddle and the tinkling banjo.
They were having a high old time, for whisky was flowing freely, and spirits were rising proportionately as spirits went down.
Not a man or woman in the party but what drank like fishes, danced and cut up like Eastern dervishes, and raised the devil generally.
It was an extra occasion you see, and they had to let themselves out a kink or two.
Cheeky Charley and his two friends, who acted in the time-honored capacity of groomsmen, walked out into the clearing and held up his hand.
The music instantly stopped.
“Now you want to hold just awhile,” said the bridegroom, who had fished a flaming scarlet tie from somewhere, and was in extra good trim, “cos yer see this here fandango has got to stop and let the nuptials go on. The female what’s going to get hitched says she don’t want to be all day about it, cos she kinder thinks as how she can have more freedom as a married woman than she can when she’s a modest young gal.”
“Yes, by thunder, yer right, old man,” said the blooming bride, bouncing out of the cabin door and stalking into the middle of the clearing, “and, by jinks, yer’d better be lively in getting hitched or, so help me Bob, I’ll tackle some likely cuss and elope. By thunder an’ lightnin’ I jest will now.”
Barney and Pomp took a look at her.
She was worth looking at.