. . !"
"Jack Battle!"
It was all I could say.
There he was, grizzled and bronzed and weather-worn, laughing with joy
and thrashing his arms about as if to belabour me again.
"But who is this, Jack?"
I lifted the Indian woman from her knees. It was the girl my blow had
saved that morning long ago.
"Who--what is this?"
"My wife," Says Jack, swinging his arms afresh and proud as a prince.
"Your wife? . . . Where . . . who married you?"
"There warn't no parson," says Jack, "that is, there warn't no parson
nearer nor three thousand leagues and more. And say," adds Jack, "I
s'pose there was marryin' afore there _could_ be parsons! She saved my
life. She hain't no folks. I hain't no folks. She got away that
morning o' the massacre--she see them take us captive--she gets a white
pelt to hide her agen the snow--she come, she do all them cold miles
and lets me loose when the braves ain't watching . . . she risks her
life to save my life--she don't belong to nobody. I don't belong to
nobody. There waren't no parson, but we're married tight . . .
and--and--let not man put asunder," says Jack.
For full five minutes there was not a word.
The east was trying to understand the west!
"Amen, Jack," said I. "God bless you--you are a man!"
"We mean to get a parson and have it done straight yet," explained
Jack, "but I wanted you to stand by me----"
"Faith, Jack, you've done it pretty thorough without any help----"
"Yes, but folks won't understand," pleaded Jack, "and--and--I'd do as
much for you--I wanted you to stand by me and tell me where to say
'yes' when the parson reads the words----"
"All right--I shall," I promised, laughing.
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