Two by two the cavalcade set forth through the woods, now beginning to show a sparse leafage brought suddenly out by a day of warmth. Gay was the little company, for fun was the leading purpose of the hour. Some tricksters having started on ahead, an unexpected volley of musketry from an ambuscade gave cause for much plunging of horses, many shrieks from the lasses, and much uproarious laughter after the smoke had cleared away. There was no road save the bridle-path, and that none too good, but the roughly dressed company cared little for that, and, indeed, the more obstacles in the way of fallen trees or ragged grape-vines the better the fun. Clad in leathern breeches, stout leggings, linsey hunting-shirts, the men were a picturesque crew, while the lasses in their linsey-woolsey gowns rarely boasted an ornament unless it might be such as a few could show in the way of heirlooms like buckles or lace ruffles. Arrived at last the riders tied up their horses, and all trooped into the house where the bride and her friends awaited the coming of the groom. Jerry Hunter as leader entered first, and gave a sharp glance around the room. “Where’s Davy?” he blurted out. Mrs. M’Clean’s cheek turned suddenly pale, and her husband cast a keen glance toward the door. “None o’ yer joking,” he said sternly. “I’m not jokin’, as I’m a sinner,” returned Jerry. “Am I, boys? Isn’t Dave here?” “No.” The word came sharp from the father’s lips. His wife gave him an appealing look. “I hope nothing has happened to the lad,” she said in a troubled voice. “Ye’ve not seen him the morn, Jerry?” “No, nor have any of us.” “He was no at meeting on Sabbath day,” said the minister, gravely, as he came forward, “and he was sure to be home by then, he told me.” “And not later than yesterday,” said Mrs. M’Clean. She slipped from the room to where Jeanie, surrounded by her girl friends, was waiting. At the pitying look on her mother’s face she sprang to her feet. “Mother, what’s happened to David?” she cried. “Naught that we know of, lass, but he’s not come.” Agnes pressed close and sought Jeanie’s hand. “He will come, Jeanie,” she whispered. The other girls looked at one another, one or two with a faintly significant smile. Agnes was quick to see them. “He will come,” she said with assurance; “something has happened to detain him a little. David was always one to keep his word.” She nodded her head decidedly at those who had smiled. “Don’t fret, Jean,” said one of the other girls. “Fret? Why should I fret?” she asked, holding up her head. “I know that David is as true as steel, and if mishap has overtaken him, it is no fault of his. We can wait awhile, mother. Tell the company we will wait awhile.”