“Git busy, folks! Ketch holt of han’s,” and he proceeded to read through the form made and provided for such occasions by the State Judiciary, while Mr. Peleg Crater continued to hammer at the door.
Dorothy and Tavia marveled at the courage of Molly Crater, who actually responded to the questions in unshaken voice while her angry father shouted threats outside.
“Now, by jinks!” exclaimed the Justice, throwing down the book and saluting the bride with a kiss like the crack of a bullwhip, “yuh air tied hard an’ fast. Le’s see ol’ Peleg untie yuh.”
“He’s got a gun,” said the cowpuncher warningly, at the door. “Ef he blows Colt’s head off the knot will be purty well busted—what?”
“Wal, I’ll lend Jim my gun,” said the philosophic Justice. “Then let ’em go to it.”
“No, sir-ree!” exclaimed the newly made Mrs. Colt. “I won’t have my husband and my father a-shooting at one another.”
“Peleg means business, Molly,” said Lance.
“So do I,” declared the bride. “I’d leave Jim right now ef he aimed a gun at pap. Just as I left pap ’cause he shot at Jim.”
Dorothy and Tavia were badly frightened. These people talked of the use of lethal weapons in a most barbarous way. Even Tavia began to think the West was more uncivilized than it was romantic.
“That’s a good, strong door,” squealed the bewhiskered Whistler. “And the window shutters are bullet-proof. We kin stand a siege. I got a cyclone cellar, too.”