"Yes, marry us--Ruth and me."
"Golly! I--I--never married anybody."
"That don't matter. Anybody can do it."
"But I'm too young. It takes a man."
"No, it doesn't. Ruth can tell you what to say. It's all easy. Come
along."
They entered the church; but Zac, like many of his kind, was
unpleasantly affected by music, so he remained outside.
Up the main aisle they started, Luther in front, the bride and groom
behind, holding hands. In the gallery above Horace Phillips was
practising various tunes, and the voice of the great organ filled the
church. To the bride and groom, both lovers of music, the notes of the
organ seemed more impressive than ever in the now empty building.
But the wedding procession had barely started up the aisle when the
ceremonies were rudely interrupted. The Budding Outlaw, smarting
perhaps at being ignored, followed close behind and yielded to a
vengeful impulse. Ruth's hair, gathered by a ribbon behind her head,
was flowing down her back like a golden mane. The Budding Outlaw
reached forth and seized a handful, then gave it a violent jerk, as if
driving a horse, and he said,
"Hi there! Giddap; giddap!"