Of course, a wild man could not be induced, like an ordinary mortal, to wait a reasonable time in order to give his bride an opportunity of preparing her trousseau. He was a self-willed man, and a man of a strong mind. He insisted upon being married “out of hand, and have done with it.” So he was married—whether “out of hand” or not we cannot tell—by the excellent clergyman of Pine Point settlement. On the same day, and the same hour, March Marston was married—“out of hand,” also, no doubt—to the vision in leather!

There was something rather precipitate in these proceedings, unquestionably; but those who feel disposed to object to them must bear in mind, first, that backwoodsmen are addicted to precipitancy at times; and, secondly, that facts cannot be altered in order to please the fastidious taste of the so-called civilised world.

Public opinion in the settlement was strongly in favour of the doings of the Wild Man of the West. Delay was deemed by all to be unnecessary, and all the more so that the double wedding-day was to be celebrated as a species of public event.

The romance connected with the previous life of Dick, and especially his singular and unexpected return to his first love, created quite a sensation, even in a region in which wild deeds and wonderful events were so common that it required a man to be a real hero to enable him to rise conspicuous above his fellows. Many trappers came in from a considerable distance to take part in the rejoicings of that day, and from the dance which followed the ceremony there was not absent a living creature belonging to the settlement.

Every dog was there, of course, adding its vocal melody to the dulcet tones of the blacksmith’s violin. Even the cats of the settlement were present, including that celebrated kitten which had been reduced to a state of drivelling imbecility by the furious advent of the Wild Man. Owls and other sagacious birds also came from afar to see the fun, attracted by the light of the fire; for the ballroom was the green sward of the forest, which was illuminated for the occasion by a bonfire that would have roasted a megatherium whole, and also would have furnished accommodation for a pot large enough to boil an elephant. Don’t think, reader, in the vanity of your heart, that you have conceived that fire! You have not, as a Yankee would say, the most distant conception of the small end of a notion of what it was! A hundred brawny arms, accustomed to wield the broad axe, had lent their aid to rear the mighty pile and feed the ravening flame.

It was kindled on a wide level plot in the outskirts of the settlement, around which the trees spread their sheltering arms. On a plank raised on two casks sat the blacksmith with his fiddle. The carpenter sat beside him with a kettledrum, more literally a kettledrum even than the real thing, for that drum was a kettle! On a little mound that rose in the centre of the plot sat, in state, Dick and Mary, March and the vision in leather, their respective thrones being empty flour-casks. Around them danced the youth and beauty of the settlement. These were enclosed by a dense circle, composed of patriarchal, middle-aged, and extremely juvenile admirers. The background of the picture was filled up with the monstrous fire which saturated that spot in the forest with light—bright as the broadest day. The extreme foreground was composed of the trunk of a fallen tree, on which sat our friend the artist, delineating the whole with the eagerness of an enthusiast who had at last fallen upon a scene truly worthy of his genius.

How Bounce did dance, to be sure! How the young trappers and the blooming backwoods maidens did whirl and bound, on heel and toe, and, to a large extent, on the whole sole of the foot! Yes, their souls were in the work, and their spirits too; and that although there was not a drop of spirits in the settlement. Happily, owing to the unaccountable delay of a provision boat, there was not a glass of “fire-water” in the place at that time. The whole affair was got up, carried on, and concluded on tea. It was a great teetotal gathering, which would have drawn tears of joy from the heart of Father Mathew and all his successors, whether Romanist or Protestant, had they witnessed it.

Yet the excitement was tremendous. The Wild Man of the West, strange to say, and, owing to some peculiar contradictoriness of character which was unaccountable, was almost the only sane man of the whole party. He flung himself on the ground beside his wife, and locking his arm round the tough root of a pine tree refused to budge from the spot. As the united efforts of all the men who could lay hold of him at one time failed to root him up, he was suffered to lie there and amuse himself by watching the dancers, looking up occasionally at Mary’s blue eyes, and playing with such of the juveniles as he could attract within the reach of his long arm.

As for March Marston, he was mad now if ever he had been so in his life! He danced with all the girls, and wrestled with all the men, and played hide-and-seek with all the boys, and fraternised with all the old people, and chased all the dogs, and astonished, not to say horrified, all the cats. Yet, although he did all this, he did not neglect the vision in leather, by no manner of means.

Long before the dawn of early morning that jovial party drank a parting cup of cold tea, and, dispersing to their several homes, left the field in possession of the village curs.

Now, dear reader—with a feeling of sadness we write it—all things must have an end! We make this unquestionable assertion in order to break to you, as gently as may be, the news that our tale has reached its close. Had we taken in hand to write the life and adventures of our hero and his friends from first to last, we should have had to prepare pens, ink, and paper, for a work equal in size to the “Encyclopaedia Britannica.” We have only detailed one or two episodes in their wild career. What they did and said and saw in after years must be left to future historians, or to the imagination of romantic readers. This only will we say in conclusion, that of all the men who dwelt in Pine Point settlement, for many years after the events narrated in these pages, the kindest, the wisest, the gentlest, the heartiest, the wildest, and the most courageous was—the Wild Man of the West.

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