muzzle hard against his cheek. The preacher choked, but the usual words of the ritual—sounding almost like mockery—dropped mechanically from his tongue.
"And now I pronounce you man and wife, and whom God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. Amen."
She gave vent to a little sobbing cry, half stifled in her throat, and shrank away from me. I knew that her face was buried in her hands, yet had no time to look that way, or utter a word. Rifle butts were crashing in the panels of the door; I could perceive already dim figures revealed through the jagged openings made in the light wood, a vista of faces, a gleam of weapons.
"Hit lower down!" yelled the same gruff voice of command. "There is a bolt that holds fast—reach in Saunders!"
"Get back—beyond the bed," I called, pushing her behind me, and bracing myself for the first shock. The door gave, sagging aside on its hinges, and half falling inward, and through the opening men tumbled forward, carbines gripped in their hands. The red light gleamed ghastly across their faces, and revealed—the blue uniform of Federal cavalry.
