For reasons of economy there was to be no wedding trip, except the drive to their home in the Canon. Later, perhaps, they would journey to some railroad town to shop, and--come a good year--Lafe would take her to a Middle West city--"to the East," they called it in Badger. A buckboard was in waiting, a pair of spirited young bays straining against the men who held them. Sheltering Hetty with his body from a shower of rice and old shoes, the sheriff and his bride sped down the path from the Widow Brown's. He lifted her into the buckboard and picked up the reins. Then a cloud of dust swept down on them, and out of the cloud came a rattle of hoofs. A rope sped, and the sheriff was jerked off the seat. "Help, Horne!" he cried. "They've got me." The treacherous Horne gave succor by grinning while the cowboys bound the groom. Hetty had disappeared, whisked away in the turmoil. A man was driving the buckboard toward the company's corrals, but of the bride there was not a trace. Stealing her from her lord's arms is one of the merriest jests we have. "Well," said Lafe good-naturedly, "I reckon it's one on me. Turn me loose. I buy." An hour went by, and he endeavored to escape from his friends that he might rejoin his wife. They would not hear of it. When Lafe insisted and left despite them, he was unable to find Hetty. For another hour he kept patient, dawdling in Turner's place and giving as good as he got in the way of badinage. Everybody in town seized the opportunity to rally him while he waited. The sheriff sat on the counter, kicking his heels against the boards, and never once lost countenance. About five o'clock Mrs. Horne ran in hot haste to her husband. "Hetty," she panted, "where is she?" "How should I know?" said Horne. "You had her last. Didn't you and Mrs. Brown hide her out?" "We locked her in Mrs. Turner's house. She's gone. She isn't there. Oh, what shall I do? She's gone." "Pshaw!" the cowman said. "She's all right. She's just given you the slip to go find Lafe." Still wringing her hands, Mrs. Horne returned to her ally, the Widow, and they hunted the house and Mrs. Turner's house all over again. Hetty was not to be found. "Boys, a joke's a joke and I can take mine with the rest," said Lafe--in proof whereof he gave vent to a hollow "ha, ha"--"but this has gone further. I want my wife. I want Hetty. Where is she?" It was the supper hour and they were collected at the Fashion, and still no sign of the bride. Even Horne began to look anxious. His wife and the Widow melted into tears, bitterly bewailing their share in this unfortunate practical joking. Lafe indulged in no reproaches when the situation was explained to him, but started on a systematic raking of Badger. Search parties were instantly formed and not a corner of the town was overlooked.