The hunter roused himself, looked hastily round, raised himself one one elbow, and said in a strong voice, “Come, I’m ready now. Let’s get it over.”
Immediately Loo was at his side; the whole party assembled round his couch; the pastor opened his book, and in these exceptional circumstances Reuben Dale and Louisa MacFearsome were married!
“Now, Reuben dear,” whispered Loo, as she pressed his lips, “lie down again and go to sleep.”
“On one condition only,” said the wounded man, with something like a twinkle in his eye, “that you go on with the wedding feast. Jacob says a wedding is worth nothing without a dance. Now, as this wedding is worth all the world to me, Loo, I’m determined that it shall be worth something to my old friend and comrade.”
It was found that remonstrances were in vain, so, as resistance to his wishes might have proved hurtful to the invalid, the wedding feast was continued and carried through with far more vigour than might have been expected, Reuben himself being, apparently, one of the most interested spectators.
So Jacob had his dance, and he performed his part with unwonted energy,—for the sake of pleasing his friend rather than himself.
When the lights were waxing low, and the great pie had been eaten, and old Fiddlestrings had been used up, Reuben called his friend to his side.
“What with searchin’,” he said, “an’ fightin’, and fire-stoppin’ an’ dancin’ you’ve had a pretty stiff time of it, Jacob. But you’re a strong man—leastwise you used to be—an’ I daresay there’s plenty of go in you yet.”
“I’m fresh as a lark, Reuben,” replied his friend. “What want ye wi’ me?”
“I just want ye go fetch your horse, an’ saddle my best buffalo-runner for the parson, an’ take him to Beaver Creek. Do it as fast as you can, Jacob, and by the short cut, and don’t spare the cattle.”