"Well now," said Jacob to the cloud that issued from his lips, "I couldn't ha' done that to save my scalp. I've tried it, off an' on for the last six year, and alers stuck at the p'int--or raither just before it, for I never got quite the length o' the p'int. But I've bin very near it, Reuben, more than once, uncommon near. One time I got so close to the edge o' the precipice that another inch would have sent me right over. `My dear Liz,' says I; but I stuck there, an' the sweet little thing runned away, larfin', an' so I'm a bachelor still. But I'm right glad, Reuben, that you've got it over at last. How did it feel?" "Feel!" echoed the hunter, "it felt as bad, or wuss, nor the time that grizzly bar up the Yellowstone River got his claws into the small o' my back--only I hadn't you to help me out o' the difficulty this time. I had to do it all myself, Jacob, and hard work it was, I tell 'ee, boy. Hows'ever, it's all over now, an' we're to be spliced this evenin'." "That's raither sharp work, ain't it, Reuben?" said Jacob, with a critical wrinkle of his eyebrows, and a remonstrative tone in his voice. "I ain't much of an authority on sitch matters, but it do seem to me as if you might have given the poor gal a day or two to make sure whether her head or heels was uppermost." "You're right, Jacob; you're judgment was always sound, but, you see, I was forced to do it slick off because the parson won't wait another day, an' I'd like to have it done all ship-shape, for I've a respec' for the parsons, you see. A man who's come straight down from the Pilgrim Fathers, like me, behoves to act discreetly--so, the weddin's to be this evenin'." "Well, you are the best judge, Reuben, an' it's as well that it should come off when old Fiddlestrings is here, for a weddin' without a fiddle ain't much of a spree. By good luck, too, there's the lads from Buffalo Creek at the fort just now, so we'll muster strong. No, I wouldn't give much for a weddin' without a good dance--not even yours, Reuben." That afternoon The MacFearsome arranged with the Reverend William Tucker to delay his departure for one day in order to unite his only daughter Loo to Reuben Dale. "You must know, Mr Tucker," he explained, in a slightly apologetic tone, "although Reuben is only a hunter, his parents were gentlefolks. They died when Reuben was quite a little fellow, so that he was allowed to run wild on a frontier settlement, and, as a matter of course, took to the wilderness as naturally as a young duck takes to the water. But Reuben is a superior person, Mr Tucker, I assure you, and as fine a disposition as you could wish. He's as bold as a lion too, and has saved my girl's life twice, and my own three times--so, you see, he--" "He deserves a good wife," said the Reverend William Tucker heartily.