"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.