As time passed, however, the dwellers in Mac's Fort became anxious, then alarmed, and finally the wedding was postponed, while a search for the lost one was organised; but they searched in vain, because tracks which might easily be traced in the wilderness get inextricably mixed up in the vicinity of a fort.

Next day Kenneth MacFearsome, coming rather hastily and angrily to the conclusion that Mr Tucker had given them the slip and gone off to his conference, determined himself to perform the marriage ceremony as directed in the Church of England Prayer-Book.

"You see, Reuben," he said, "I have a great respect for the Church, and would fain have had this matter knocked off by one of its parsons, but as this parson appears to be little better than a wolf in sheep's clothing—if as good—I'll just do it myself, for I'll not have my daughter's wedding delayed another day for any man, woman, or beast alive."

"Wouldn't it be as well, sir," suggested the hunter modestly, "to have a hunt after the parson by daylight first?"

"No, it wouldn't," said the old trader, with the air and decision of—we were going to say the great Mogul, but perhaps it would be more emphatic and appropriate to say—The MacFearsome.

Knowing that appeal from that decision would be in vain, Reuben once more arrayed himself in the wedding dress, (which he had changed when the search for Mr Tucker was undertaken), and once again presented himself before his admiring friends in the decorated hall of Mac's Fort. The cook warmed up his gigantic pie, old Fiddlestrings re-tuned his home-made violin, and pretty little Loo at last appeared on the scene with two half-breed young women as bridesmaids, and two Indian females as backers-up.

"My friends," said Kenneth MacFearsome, taking up the prayer-book, and commencing a speech which he had spent the entire forenoon in preparing, "I have a few words to say to you on this interesting occasion."

The old gentleman's usually stern and handsome countenance had relaxed, and assumed a bland, sweet expression, which was more consonant with the circumstances in which they were assembled. Before he could utter another word, however, he was interrupted, to his great surprise, by Reuben.

"Excuse me, Mr MacFearsome," said that bold though bashful hunter, "but my friend and comrade, Jacob Strang, has not yet arrived, and it would grieve me to the heart if he was absent at such a time as this. Couldn't we wait a bit? I wouldn't ask you to do so for any other man alive, but I've hunted wi' him since we were slips of boys, and—and I can't help thinkin' that somethin's gone wrong wi' him, for Jacob's good and true, and trusty as steel, an' wasn't used to fail in his engagements."

While the hunter was speaking the bland expression faded from the Highlander's countenance, and a fierce look flashed from his blue eyes as he replied in stern, decided tones:—

"Reuben Dale, if your friend Jacob was the great Israel of Bible story, or even Moses himself, I would not wait for him. Don't interrupt me again, lad."

He turned to the assembled company with a wave of his hand, as if to dismiss the interruption from memory, and attempted to reassume the benignant expression, with only partial success.

"My friends," he said, but said no more, for at that moment he was a second time interrupted. A shout was heard outside, the door of the hall burst open, and Jacob Strang himself strode in, bearing the Reverend William Tucker on his shoulders.

Depositing his burden on the floor, he said hurriedly, "He's not dead, only stunned. The reptiles did their best to kill him. They're not far off, MacFearsome. We'd better go after them."

The MacFearsome usually gave vent to his feelings in Gaelic when labouring under strong excitement. On this occasion his utterances were terrible in tone whatever their meaning might be.

"Go after them?" he cried, in a blaze of wrath, "yes, we'll go after them. Saddle my horse and fetch my gun. Arm yourself, boys! Some of you will remain to guard the Fort, and see that you keep the gates shut. Can you guide us to the villains, Jacob?"

"I can at least follow up the trail."

"Stay, I can guide you," said a voice behind them.

It was the Reverend William Tucker himself, who had recovered, and was sitting up on the floor looking rather confused.

"No, sir; you will remain at the Fort and take care of the women," said MacFearsome gruffly.

In a few minutes the Chief of the Fort was galloping over the prairie at the back of his establishment, followed by six of his best men, with Reuben Dale, and led by Jacob Strang.

In thus giving chase to the red men the Highlander did not act with his wonted caution. His wrath was too much for him.

Jacob the hunter, while out after deer, had come on the trail of the war-party of Blackfeet. Suspecting them of mischief, he had followed them up and found them just at the time when they made prisoner of Mr Tucker. He saw them bind the unlucky pastor and carry him off, mounted behind a savage chief. Jacob chanced fortunately to be concealed in a rugged piece of ground where horses could not act. As the Indians were riding away he shot the horse that bore the pastor, and at the same time uttered a series of yells and extempore war-whoops so appalling that the savages gave him credit for being at least a dozen foes, and fled over a ridge before turning to see what had happened. The fall of the horse had stunned the pastor, but the Indian leaped up and drew his knife. Fortunately Jacob's rifle was a double-barrelled one. Uttering another ferocious yell he fired, and by good fortune hit the right arm of the Indian chief, who, dropping his knife, followed his companions like a hunted stag. Jacob immediately dashed out of his ambush, lifted the reverend gentleman on his own horse, which he had left in a hollow close at hand, and brought him, as we have seen, safe back to the Fort.

Now, if the white men had been satisfied with this, all would have been well, but The MacFearsome had been roused, as we have said, and set off needlessly in pursuit of the savages. It chanced that the Blackfeet had arranged to attack the Fort in two bands that night—advancing on it from opposite directions. The consequence was that while MacFearsome and his men were away after one band, the other—a much larger band— ignorant of what had occurred to their comrades, advanced after dusk on the Fort, and gave the signal for attack. They were surprised at receiving no reply from their comrades, but did not delay the assault on that account.

The men who had been left in charge of the Fort were quite worthy of the trust. Stationing themselves a few yards apart all round the palisades inside, they kept guard. Mr Tucker, armed with an axe-handle as a bludgeon—for he objected to taking life if he could avoid it—mounted guard at the gate. Pretty little Loo kept him company. The other women were stationed so as to carry ammunition to the men, or convey orders from the blacksmith who had been left in command.

"This is a sad interruption to your wedding," remarked the pastor, as he leaned against the Fort gate, and examined his weapon.

"It is," assented Loo meekly, "but you will marry us to-morrow. My father will return too late to have it done to-night, I fear."

"However late he comes we must get the ceremony over to-night, Loo, for I positively cannot delay my journey another day. Indeed, even as it is, I shall be late for the conference of my brethren. Hark! What sound was that?"

"I heard nothing but the hoot of an owl," said Loo.

As she spoke an arrow, entering between the palisades, whizzed past her. At the same moment a volley was fired from the other side of the Fort.

"Keep closer to the gate, Loo," said Mr Tucker, grasping his club with a feeling that the girl's safety depended on the use he made of that unclerical weapon.

"Come round to the east angle, all of you," shouted the blacksmith.

All the men in the Fort obeyed the summons in time to repel a vigorous assault made on that point by what seemed to be the whole band of the enemy, but the bride and one of her maids remained at the front gate to keep watch there. Just as the victory was gained and the enemy were driven off at the east angle, a loud scream was given by the women. Mr Tucker heard it and was first to run to the rescue. He found that three of the Blackfeet, during the assault on the other side, had crept round to the front gate. One of these had placed his head against the stockade, a second had mounted on his shoulders, and a third had thus gained the top of the pickets.

Seeing at a glance how matters stood, Mr Tucker ran forward and thrust his bludgeon with a straight point between the posts, right into the painted face of the lower savage, who fell back at once, carrying the second savage along with him: but the third had already laid his hands on the top, and, vaulting over with monkey-like agility, came down on the pastor's shoulders with such violence that both rolled together on the ground. But the savage was no match for the athletic pastor, who compressed his throat with a grip that soon caused him to relax his hold.

"Here, give me your kerchief, Loo," gasped the pastor; "I'll tie his hands."

"Why don't you stick him?" asked one of Loo's bridesmaids with great simplicity.

"Because I won't take life if I can help it," replied Mr Tucker as he bound the Indian's wrists.

At that moment there arose a wild war-whoop from another part of the Fort, and a volume of smoke and flame burst from the back of the chief dwelling-house which stood in the centre of the square. The Blackfeet had gained an entrance at another point, and set fire to the western wing of the building unperceived.

With a shout of rage the blacksmith and his men rushed to the scene of disaster.

"There's father!" said Loo, with a cry of joy.

"Where?" exclaimed Mr Tucker, looking round with a bewildered air.

"Help to open the gate," cried Loo.

The pastor did so at once, and, as he heaved at the bar which held it, he could hear the clatter of hoofs and the shouts of men outside.

The heavy gate swung back just as the cavalcade came up, and they dashed in at full gallop.

"Open the back gate wide, Loo, and leave this one open, too," shouted MacFearsome, as he flew past like an enraged thunderbolt.

Our bride possessed that most valuable quality, a tendency to prompt, unquestioning obedience. Running lightly to the other side of the Fort she undid the fastenings and forced the back gate wide open. Meanwhile her father and our bridegroom, with his friend Jacob and the six men, charged down on the savages with wild yells of fury. The sight of them was sufficient! The Blackfeet turned and fled through the open gates in consternation. As they coursed towards the woods like hares the blacksmith managed to turn on them a small ship's-cannon loaded with buckshot, which awoke the echoes of the wilderness with a deafening roar. The horsemen also pursued and scattered them right and left. Then the gates were reclosed, while the bright flame of the burning buildings lit up the scene as at noon-day.

"Hold your hands now, boys," shouted MacFearsome, drawing rein.

Those nearest to the chief obeyed, and the others, soon perceiving what was being done, rejoined their comrades.

"Where is Reuben?" asked MacFearsome, as they were turning towards the Fort.

Each looked at the other, but none could answer.

"I saw him down in the hollow, charging the Indians," said one.

"And I saw him coming back by the stable-fence," said another.

"Off with you to both places and look for him," cried the chief, "and the rest of you follow me."

They searched swiftly to and fro for some minutes, and soon found his riderless horse. Then a cry from one of their number was heard from the hollow. Galloping thither they found Reuben lying on his back, apparently dead, with an arrow in his chest.

In a moment Jacob was on his knees at his friend's side, and soon the arrow was extracted, but it was found that blood gushed freely from the wound. Stanching this as best they could they bore the wounded man carefully to the Fort.

"Oh, father! I hope the fight is over now," exclaimed Loo, as her sire rode through the gateway.

"Yes, the fight is over," replied the Highlander, sternly, "but it has cost us much. Our house is on fire and Reuben is—"

He did not finish the sentence. Indeed, there was no occasion to do so, for, while he spoke, the men advanced who bore Reuben's all but lifeless body.

Loo did not scream or utter a word, but her white face and compressed lips told their own tale as she walked by her bridegroom's side into the hall which had been so gaily fitted up, but was now a blackened and partially burned room.

While the hunter's wound was being examined every one, save the pastor and the women, was sent from the hall to aid in extinguishing the fire, which had been nearly subdued. MacFearsome was somewhat expert as an amateur doctor, and so was the Reverend William Tucker. Their united opinion was that the hunter's case was a very grave one. They did all that could be done to stop the bleeding and sustain the strength of the wounded man, whose consciousness returned after a short time.

"Is it all over with me, father?" asked Reuben, in a faint voice, addressing The MacFearsome for the first time by that endearing title.

"I fear it is, my son," replied the Chief. "You know it is not my habit to mince matters at any time, and I don't think you are such a baby as to fear death when it is sent to you. However, I will not say that your case is hopeless till I have tried my medicine on you—so keep up your heart, Reuben."

"Father," said Reuben, "will you allow me to be alone with Loo, for a little?"

"Certainly, my dear boy, but you must have your medicine first."

Reuben replied with a smile and a nod.

After taking the physic he was left alone with Loo. For some time neither could speak. At last Loo said, "Oh, Reuben dear! you are not going to die?"

"I hope not, dearest, but when the Lord's time comes we must be ready to answer to our names. If I am to go now I would spend the few hours that remain to me listening to your sweet voice reading the Master's Word."

"Reuben," said Loo, with sudden animation, "will you grant me a favour?"

"You know I will, whatever it be," replied the hunter, with a languid smile; "what is it?"

"That we may be married to-night—within this hour," said Loo, with decision.

"Why? Of what use to wed a dying man?"

"Because I want to nurse you as your wife, to the end, if it be His will that you shall go, and I wish to be for ever after called by your dear name."

"It is a strange notion—a sweet one to me, dearest Loo. It shall be as you wish. Call father."

At first the Highlander strongly objected to the wish of his child, but Loo knew how to overcome her father's objections! In the course of half-an-hour Reuben sent for Mr Tucker. The MacFearsome's medicine, whatever it was, was potent as well as patent. Reuben was able to talk with considerable energy when the pastor appeared—summoned, as he fancied, to prepare the dying man for the great change. Great, therefore, was his amazement when Reuben begged of him to make arrangements for performing the interrupted marriage ceremony within half-an-hour.

"But you seem to be dying, friend?" said the perplexed pastor.

"That may be so," replied the hunter quietly, "but Loo wants to be wed before I die, and we'd better waste no time about it."

There was no resisting this, so the Reverend William Tucker made arrangements for the wedding, while The MacFearsome and his men were busied extinguishing the last sparks of the fire.

It was near midnight before these arrangements were completed. Then the men were summoned once more to the Hall, but how different were their feelings now from what they had been earlier on that day! The occupation of old Fiddlestrings was gone. Even the huge pie was dismissed from the scene. The wedding guests crept quietly in, their gay costumes torn and covered with charcoal, and bearing other evidences of the recent conflict. They were very silent, too, and sad, for they were aware of the critical condition of the bridegroom.

When all was at last prepared a new and unexpected difficulty arose. It was found that Reuben had fallen into a sound sleep!

Thereupon a whispered but anxious conversation took place at the end of the hall farthest from the wounded man's couch.

"We must waken him," said MacFearsome, with stern look and tone.

"No, father," said Loo, with a tearful smile, "we must wait."

"Your daughter is right," whispered Mr Tucker. "Whatever be the condition of Reuben, sleep is the best thing for him."

"But you must start for your conference at four in the morning, and he may not awake before that," objected MacFearsome.

Their perplexities were suddenly removed by Reuben himself, who awoke while they were consulting, and asked his friend Jacob—who watched at his side with the tenderness of a brother—where Loo had gone to.

"She's here, Reuben, waitin' to get married," replied his friend.

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."

"I'll do it, Reuben."

Jacob was a man of few words. He did it, and thus it came to pass that when grey dawn began to break over Mac's Fort, it found the Reverend William Tucker and his guide scouring over the western plains at the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour—more or less—while Reuben Dale lay sound asleep in his blood-stained wedding dress, his strong hand clasping that of pretty little Loo, who was also sound asleep, in an easy chair by his side.

About the same time The MacFearsome flung himself down on his half-burned bed, where in dreams—to judge from his snorting, snoring, and stertorous breathing—he waged war with the whole Blackfeet race single-handed!

When the pastor bade farewell to Reuben he had done so with the sad feelings of one who expected never to see his face again, but the pastor's judgment was at fault. Reuben Dale lived—he lived to become as strong and able a hunter of the Rocky Mountains as ever he had been; he lived to take Loo to the western settlements, and squat down beside The MacFearsome's new farm, as a species of hunting farmer; he lived to become a respected member of the Reverend William Tucker's church in the wilderness, where he filled two pews with little Dales, which, as an Irish comrade remarked, was a dale more than he deserved; and last, but not least, he lived to urge, argue, badger, bamboozle, worry, and haul Jacob Strang up to that "p'int" at which he had so often stuck before, but over which he finally fell, and managed to secure that "dear Liz" who was destined to become the sunshine of his after-life.

In regard to this matter, Jacob was wont to say to his friend at times, when he was particularly confidential, that "the catchin' of Liz was the best bit of trappin' he had done since he took to huntin' in the Rocky Mountains, and that if it hadn't bin for his chum Reuben Dale, he never would have bin able to come up to the p'int, much less git over it, though he had lived to the age of Methuselah and hunted for a wife all the time."

"A good story," said Dick Thorogood, as Fred folded up the manuscript; "but to return to matter of greater importance than this hunter's wedding, curious though it be: what about emigrating?"

"I'll go, for one!" exclaimed the blacksmith bringing his huge fist down with a heavy thud on the table.

"John, John, it's not the anvil you've got before you," said old Moll.

"No, nor yet is my fist the fore-hammer," rejoined the smith, with sparkling eyes. "Nevertheless, I repeat that I'll go—always supposing that you and Molly have no objections."

It was one of the dearest wishes of the old woman's heart to be near her crippled and favourite son, but she would not commit herself at once.

"What says Molly?" she asked, turning to her daughter.

Molly cast a sidelong glance at Fred, who gave the slightest possible nod, and then said, in her gentle voice, "The sooner we begin to pack the better!"

"Bravo, lass!" cried the young sailor, slapping his thigh; "well said, and we'll all go together. What say you, boys?"

"Agreed—agreed!" was the hearty reply.

And this was no idle talk. That night at worship, the father of the family spread Jim's letter, as he said, before the Lord, and asked for guidance. The end of the whole matter was that, a few months later, the Thorogood family emigrated to the backwoods of America, and began that career of useful, energetic, patient, God-directed labour which ended in the formation of a happy garden in a part of the wilderness which had formerly been the haunt of wild beasts and wilder men.

And here, kind reader, we must close our little tale, for it would take a large book, if not two books, to tell the story of that thorough-going family's adventures while endeavouring to spread the truth in the Far West. Suffice it to say, that they all found what they went in search of—health and happiness—because they sought for these blessings in accordance with the teachings of the blessed Word of God.

THE END