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EmnNB) Gow) •..,,, 300 »r,«;#- IF ANY MAN SIN 1 CHAPTER I CHORDS OP MEMOBT JT was Sunday night and the great city was hushed in * silence A thick mist hung over streets and houses through which numerous li^ts endeavoured to force their rays^ Few people were astir and all traffic had ceased. Presently the chimes from a hidden church tower pealed forth their sweet message to the world. A man standmg alone within the shadow of the church Bterted and turned his face upwards. The musical sounds seemed to fascinate him, and he listened as one entranced He gave no heed to the men and women hurrymg by phantom-like on their way to the evening service. Not until the last note had died upon the air did the man abandon his listening attitude. Then his head drooped, his tense body relaxed, and he stepped back a few paces as if fearful of being observed. Twice he started forward, moved by some inner impulse, but each tune he shrank back deeper within the shadow His strong form trembled convulsively, telling plainly of a mighty fire of emotion raging within. The man at length left his place of conceahnent and paced rapidly up and down outside the church, with his 9 10 IP ANT MAN SIN head bent forward. This he did for some time. He at last paused, stood for a while in an undecided manner, and then with a stealthy step approached the door. His hand was raised to the lai^e iron latch when strains of music fell upon his ears. Then he heard the sound of numerous voices lifted up in the closing hymn. His courage ahnost deserted him, and he half $ turned as if to leave the place. But some irresistible power seemed to stay his steps and force him to open the door and enter. The church was warm, brightly lighted, and well filled with men and women. No one heeded the stranger as he slipped quietly into a back seat and looked around. The trained voices of the white-robed choir thrilled his soul. Every word of the hykn was familiar to him, for he had often sun'» it in days gone by. The congregation, too, was singL cr and ere long he distinguished one voice from the rest. He had not heard it at first, but now it fell upon his ears with a startling intensity. It was a woman's voice, sweet, clear, and full of mingled tender- ness and pathos. The man's firm white hands clutched hard the back of the seat in front of him, and his face underwent a marvellous transformation. His eyes shone with eagerness, and his bosom lifted and fell from the vehemence of his emotion. He leaned forward until he could see the singer and watched . ^r intently. Then when the hymn was finished, ana v-w; the congregation dispersed, the stranger, having cast one more longing look upon the woman with the sweet voice, slipped noise- lessly out of the building. Upon reaching the street he stepped aside and waited for the people to come forth. It was not long ere the CHOBDS OP MEMOEY U big door was thrown wide open, and as the men and women passed by he scrutinised them as closely as pos- sible. He was watching for one person alone, and pres- ently he saw her walking by herself. When she had gone a short distance he foUowed after, and never onoe let her ont of his sight untU she came to a large house, the door of which she opened and entered. For some time the man stood outside, keeping his eyes fixed upon the building. A policeman passing by noted the man^d, mistaking him for a vagrant, ordered him away The stranger's pale face flushed, and his hands clenched as he obeyed the command. Slowly he walked along the street with his eyes fixed upon the pavement At length he paused, retraced his steps, and stood once i more before the house into which the woman had en- tered Here he remained until the clock of a. near-by church struck the hour of eleven. Then, drawing him^ wlf together, the man hurried away with rapid steps. Beachmg a house on a side street, he opened a door ^th a latch-key, and passed within. Up three flights of steirs he moved tiU he came to a Uttle room on the top floor. Groping around in the dark, he lighted an oil lamp fastened to the wall. It was a humble and scantily furnished garret he had entered. In one comer was a narrow cot. At its foot stood a wash-stand, over which hung a smaU cracked mirror. A rough worn table occupied the centre of the room, upon which rested a well-kept violin lying by its open case, Opposite the door was an open fire-place, and as the night was chilly the man lighted a fire from several dry sticks, and threw on some soft coaL Soon a cheerful blaze was curling up the chimney, before 12 IF ANY MAN SIN !^ Which the man sat on the one rickety chair the room eontamed and warmed his numbed himds. For over half an hour he remained thus, garing down' mtently mto the fire. But hotter than thiWTs b*?o« hm seemed tte eyes which burned in his head. At krt he aroused from his reverie and, crossing the n-o^: opened a smaU grip and brought forth a carefuIIy-fS newspaper clipping. This he unwrapped, sp^d it o^ "Pon the table, and drawing up his Zr J d^n H^ fixed his eyes upon an article with the big headline Deposed by His Bishop." A deep flush ianSd hS dieeks and brow as he read for more than the thou sandft time that story of disgrace and degradation. He , had really no need to read it over again, for every word was seared upon his soul as withTrci-hot Z7 Brt ttepmted words seemed to fascinate him. The tale was cold type, a^d ere long his eyes drifted from the printed h«red b»hop sitting in his library, andt^rd his^t trmble as he uttered the words which deposed him It ever from the Ministry. Then he recalled his own hrt mvectives hurled against the CLur-A, and the voTthat heart imd mmd, and free himself from its influence He remembered his scornful laugh when the bishop told him Uiat such a thing was impossible. "Martin Rutland " he had said in an impressive voice, "you know not what you are saymg Do you imagine that you can cut your- »elf off from the influence of the Church of your S CHORDS OF MEMORY 18 hood? I teU you that you are mistaken, for such a thing IS utterly impossible. The Church and her teach- mg will follow you to the grave, no matter to what part of the world you go." He had laughed at the bishop's words then, thinking them to be only an old man's empty threat. He lived over again his last visit to his aged parents It was the day before Christmas, and they believed that he had to hurry away to attend the services in his parish the next morning. Never for a moment did they sus- pect hmi of a single wrong. How proudly they had looked upon him as he stood before them ere he left the house. He never saw them again, and now in the loneliness of his barren room, a wretched outcast buf- feted by the world, he bowed his head upon the table and gave vent to his feelings in a flood of passionate tears. The whole vision rose before him with stinging vividness: his little home and the happy days of youth; his bright prospects, and what he would make of life- his parents toiling and denying themselves to provide for his education. It all came back to him this night l±e a mighty rushing torrent. In the excitement of the years of aimless wandering, he had partly stifled the thoughts. But to-night it was impossible. The pent-up stream, which could no longer be curbed had given way in one onward sweep, all the ^eater, and over-mastering because of the restraint of years. He rose abruptly to his feet and paced rapidly up and down the room. He knew what had brought upon him this mood. Why had he been so weak as to enter that church? he asked himself. And what was she doing li IF ANT MAN Sm fece with the great rtdn npoal^? Her 1 f*° ^^ ey« would have piereed buZXlL Z^ "^^ to be true, noble, and upri At B,S^ w r^,'"'^'^ ^^ aware as she sat «t «,« „• iv "^ ''*"<' "«« she Christmastu^e tit E^, rV"?' T"' P"^''^? *» her heart .Tlld was "t".*^' V^°"' ** '"'' "^^^ the window HThaH^^r^ ^" '""^^e''' t"«'"Kh . Playin,. Then le had^ettte"^"/* ^^ "" • out upon the world ^^Z^tL n'"' "'^ '""'^'^ tow he had shrunk WW . ? , ^' remembered For some ti^.^^ ^ '"^ ''«' *« should see him th^tSTi^hetlsthiT' *'^"' ""■ «»*""'J i-^ house was in darZ.!^"! ^' ^ ""*'^ "»«1 «>« lodging pC*^' ■"** '^'^ «™Pt back to his own How evety incident of that nirfit was hi,™* „_ •.- B™« He had left the parish X."^™*"^.^ several dava lAt^i. ♦!,- J* -^t cowari, and w^en deposition '^a':,!'^ ^^fentf^f iT "^^'^JT ""^ the great world or seTtttghJir TJ^:''*^ "^ ^ of the grief and agony ofin^„,f' ""T.""*^* whehning blow which fe, . ♦• ^ ^' '""' *''° »™''- Heathcote 7J^ II ^* '^'^ Prostrated Beryl inlet^pe« a^d T f * '"^'"*' "* "» degradatiTn deUght that another de^C.:^ ^ri^'aS^^": CHORDS OP MEMOBY 15 few weeks the story of wronir war f a«*^ BntUnd had wandered far «..i ^^ wnwen. long enough in any c^U^^lj^'' '^^' "'^ wandering,, and though living iu7^n=t^ ? ^ ^ «.d Church acUvities he bdSlS t^^^ I ""'^ W. h«irt and mind Z^f^ ^ ?f ~ "^"» any influence over hC Cuvrf^ti-?^ ,'^7. *^ ^tothefewp.ph.he^^X^rL^LTT' into the wildem^ H. . m °"^,8** '"V far off SeXthe^T^tSS'-'^^"- -- Wot^" ^W^o-r ^roS "V^ -^eXh^ trouble mldHe^^ * '^^ °' ''■^'" *° '"» In days g^ by W ^r. '''''*^'*^ ^'^ "^^ P«««- ^e w^rdtr^rT^^r'rtr ''»' -» ever W how ^ ho wC JTh^^n^ 16 IF ANT MAN SIN ried with him. It aloneh^f k ..• ** he had cap. panics in his w^lh'^H.^/e^H ," T^^ "^Z over hia soul He wt^^ii^" '"'* '°^^'' «P«" "^'Pt l>ees, and butterflies so hi. 1 ^ °'"'*"' """^ his first and oS Da^^ companions. He passed int,^ who. he mi^^StmedTto'^T' "^T *° leader. But briirht«,f «r,r ^ ^' **^®"' ^'^osen the face ofB^^TsCLu^^'^^^ ^ -- the little church organ. ^"""^ ^'^ ^** ^^ When Rutland ceased the fire was out in ♦». outcf t slept, and for a f ™r7i. T^ '*°^'' *■" «nd nund ^„W^ C no^ *' '^"^ -^"y »^ "•«-* -..%• V CHAPTEB II THE VEBGE OP TREMBLINS "IXTHEN the news of Martin Rutland's ignominy ▼ ▼ reached Berjl Heathcote all the light and joy passed out of her life. At first she could not believe it possible, and hoped against hope that there had been some terrible mistake. In a f ^ days, however, she had to realise that it was only to true, and that the man in whom she had trusted so implicitly was an outcast - only from society but from the Church as well. Sh tried to bear up and face the storm which raged so furi- ousl5t in the parish. On every side she was forced to listen to the most scathing denunciations of the deposed clergyman. People seemed to take a fiendish delight in calling upon her to discuss the affair and to express their undesired sympathy. No word of blame or com- plaint passed her lips. At first she cherished the feeble hope that Martin would either return or write to her, that he would prove hknself innocent. But as the days slowly edged into weeks, and no word came, a heavy despair settled upon her. The strain proved too much to bear, and she succumbed to a long serious illness, from which it was believed at one time that she could not recover. When at last she was able to sit up she was but the 17 u ly -ANT MAN SIN l«ye been. How cm I faTiif. w •.?"''' " "<»"<» weight upon my heart,.' "••«*» '^tt' thi. terribi. When she wah «««»» leave Olendale. " e'^'^J;* ^ detennined to to go where d,e would no "n^rVi *?;"« !i'*' "«• «nd where curioua eyea »n^ !^ * '**"y <>' «l»nie. •he moved .b«.S^ *'" "'"''• »»» '•"«» her whenevS •he^^etrt^' ^at^-,^" "''^ "" Either kem to have the oonrfort o/S- 1"" *° ••" '^e«'ed eould «rt and endea^w to iti "^'" ' '"'•• He« d,e the t^,j^ and brr.::XaroT^JJ^,/«-P<-bl. 'hu, however, she found */, k. »«»>tis paased before sTe^l^ ""* ^'^*' «nd «d think of the future ^h. i u .r"'*" '«>• ""tad doing something, and^ w"/* ?»' 'he Aould b. 'etum to her old Wto tt^ . '^'' "P°° """en. To would be he« the« .^e'^co'^Vrt"!:""*'"" '^'^ B« the idea of turning to ft n^ ifr effort she cheeked h^tand " '*''"« "^fore W^h «■«» upon what the elc^'H *'«'r ''' ""^ ^^^ ;^t once her interest bee^T^ ""^ P'^P'* was saying '^ With the deepest a^'^rnr^' "" '"" **^' "• ^* "" «Pe«t.ng about THE VEBGE OF TKEMBLING 21 Service, and referred to the noble work nurses were do- ing both at home and in the mission field. He told also about the Red Cross Society, and paid a tribute to Flor- ence Nightingale. He then quoted one verse of Long, fellow's "Santa Filomena": **A lady with a lamp shall stand In the great histoiy of the land, A noble type of good. Heroic womanhood.** As he uttered these words a strange new thrill swept through Beryl. Her heart beat fast, and her face flushed with living interest— the first time in years. Al- most in an instant she became transformed. Hitherto she had been trembling on the verge of uncertainty, with nothing definite in life. Now she had a purpose which, like a star of hope, burst suddenly into view. The last hymn was given out, and the congregation rose, and joined in the singing. Beryl knew the words and had no need of a book, though she held one in her hand. An unpulse now stirred her heart, her lips moved and at last, like a wild bird escaped from its cage, she lifted up her voice, and sang for the first time in years. And It was that voice which Martin heard, where he crouched in a back seat, and which thriUed his entire being. When the service was over, Beryl left the church and hurried to her sister's house. She knew nothing of the lonely outcast, who yearningly foUowed her, and then paced the street for hours after the door had closed behmd her. When alone with her sister that night. Beryl related ■?4"t¥ IF ANY MAS SIN ^^^ the light mr^^z^LT:^r:z work, "hep sister repBed ^ ^ ^ **"* "P*"^ ahaUbesent" ^ «haU then know where I £rh^dTri;:'^on^sr:rht"^--- -n take you out of yourself, and make yo::1o4et t^e tton,h he has fallen and is an ou^'i^^flTc'i^ was near me during service. It was only ? hn^, T, ' rr« "* 1' '""'"* ~ ""J- S»- then I W ttX ttat «,mewhere, sometime, I shaU meet h^ tt^t t^ Bhall ^.derstand each other, and that aU wTfee wlu^' God grant it so, dear," her sister ferv^^ H . WUI comfort you in your work hold fai 7Zi CHAPTER in I A WILDERNESS WAIF rjlHE great Mackenzie River flowed with a strong and M. Steady sweep on its way to the Arctic Sea. Two boats floated upon its surface, bearing northward manneu for the most part by half-breeds and Indians' Employees were they in the service of the notable Fui Tradmg Company, which foi- long years had ruled this wilderness land. For weeks these men had been pushing their way along this stream, contending with .ocks, rapids, and portages. Their work was hard, but they did It with a rollicking good humour, and took every difficulty as all in the day's labour. Martin Rutland worked as hard as the rest though he talked but little. A spirit of elation grew within him as they advanced into the great silent region. He re- giced at the work, no matter how hard it might be He had little time for thought during the day, but at night in camp he would sit somewhat apart and con- sider the new life which was now opening up to him He seldom joined in talk with his companions, and they did not interfere with him in any way. This strange, silent, hard-working man was a mystery to both half- breeds and Indians alike. It was only when he brought forth his violin and began to play that they would 24 IP ANT MAN SIN eatter eagerly .round him. Murie h^ charms when never does it «em so entrancing as out in the open on 8 c^ evening beneath the branches of the tiSl, ove ' tne sound of a violin on such an occasion. Rutland's SZ.T,?"'"'"^ ^ * ■^""^ ■'■'y- It expre^d his ^n^ff^^^^.r.'^ "'''" " •■« Pl^y^^ the naturaUy superstitious half-breed would glance apprehensively "nong the shadowy trees. It awed them "Zt SrSt 7f" ^"'r*"' '»^' '"'°'''-^' "-^ -^ ^ vamly for refuge and peace. At other times Rut- ^d would play bright airs and snatches of old son^ wh^h de hghted the hearte of his companions and^ ished their feeling of fear. " ""u Each day of progress brought to Rutland a greater feeling of exultation. At h«t he was free fromTta! flnence of the Church which had cast him out. H^re hi this barren «gion he could live like the ^tivS Ire" from care He would seek some far-oif band, ^d bl! come one of them. He had read much about th iZZ, »d their pictur^ue life had always appealed to ^ most strongly. He would watch his opportunity steS Shrtl^;^'"^'^''^"'*^"'''^'.--^-^^ At times he thought about the Church to which he had once belonged, and a contemptuous sn J always curled his lips when he thought of it. Lying among ?S toees he often wondered how he had ever 17^ Z ttraJdom of bygone days. He rem^^bered how particu! ™l. T 1 '*'''/'»°* «>e observance of the slightest rule. In the performance of his duties he had followed ■^^I'^m^ A WILDERNESS WAIF 25 tte rabrics of the Prayer Book with the most pnnctiU- om care The slightest deviation from thrr^^tid down fiUed him with much concern. Special Cs had ^ kept wrth great regularity, and the commSd of lus bo^op was as his conscience. But now aU wL ^pd The solemn vows he had taken did "ot^ul" hmi u, the least, and the Church was to him merely a SSr\ ^"'"'L^''* '"* '*° ""* '"'d driven him fo^h d^urb h.m. The spirit of rebellion had reigned in hU heart durmg all the years of his wanderinriife He beheved that he had been unjustly treated. He did not ^ the Mm«t.y, and a feeling of pity and superiority eame mto his heart. He pictured them moving in their 2«>-. petty circle as of old, and he asked hin^elf wtt did It aU amount to anyway. The spell of the wilder- ness was now upon him, and he longed for the voyage ™n.^ /^'^^^^/''"°''*"''- '^<'°' '•>«» t" corn- ier ^ff*^^ •'«''- ho ^or^d plunge into regiona beyond and become lost forever to the world of civllia! a ^^rrT^ *^"' ' '■"'' ^^'^ '"'* they came to LT^ TiT "^ encampment just below a dangerous rapid They had much difficulty in overcominrthis turbulent piece of water, and very glad were they to rest after their arduous exertions. They found the In- dians in a state of great excitement, the cause of which Md his wife had been drowned in an attempt to shoot ^e^~ "hl'V '^'^- ?''' ^'*^' <=•''"' » S'--' "f four years, had been rescued by the ratives, and taken to ^•'m^-^mM^'^mL^^t-^-wmm. ^m^m^'j^^^'t^-mis^ 26 IF ANT MAN SIN ^£=S J? — '-.s ™ -—I Butland, with severAl nf ^.i« . lodge where the ^Tif th^ """P-nions, entered the been plaeed cyTbermi fo™ T"^ ""^ ""'•* ''«« He et««, there for tt ti^t'^rth'e'T 1 .*? ^'^ ' l««i taken a hurried look and Std ^. *'',!.'°*° get tte face of the dead woman S his ^T\T awoke in the deen nf *>>« • v;. ., . ^ ""'*' "d he «t"ding by hfaTde T^\"^i'* '^'°^«^ «>«* «he was his feet wK^iTi: ^^^ *» something Ivine at Th? T r?^ '* Mw to be a little child. ^^^ The Indian women had taken good care of tl,. ~. j. child, and she awoke fw.™ . . ^^ " ™* rescued for her cold pto^ toto 1T""1''?P "»'" *''« "»"» in«hereyes'X*C^arZ*:t^^?- «•-"- parents looking do^ fon^y^p^l Itr" h"^."''" happy expression changed to 00^^. ? ' ''"«''*' instead the dnskv ^.« °* *'™"" '^•'e^ she saw Wildly she can^oAe/ir""*". ^'"^ "'- ''-• time in her yo^/«f, fc! ^f' ^* "*" ^'"' "-e finrt 1.^ wordir ^f4t hef Jde*"' "°* "^"^ '^«' 'od^g^td^'en^^^ m:i1-:5'""-^ '^^'^ *» «■« He did not stop toanT^ hj! f^y'^ "' «>"" ""t teU. npon the imp,Jse oTrtf^ °«^' ''"* "^ "e^ely .-wswere£=-:f--P---v^? ^i|f#J E*^^''-.*; A WILDERNESS WAIF fr« herself «.d pleading vainly for ber moth« Nrt for years had Butland's heart been so stimd H. tt^tZl„? ^ '"' '"" •"''' i"t"itively realising «^L ^ wh-r "''k T"^ "^ *^«'' ^'deiToured^ go to hua while a sob of relief escaped her lips Bnt imd caught her in his arms, folded her to hL W.^ beg^ to calm her with words of comfort ^ S tA"..*""- ^''" •" ""^^ -«■ -. » don't cry J^Mamma, mamma. I want my m«nm«, " wafled the ♦.^."frl^*" "°* '""' *° "P'y- He was Httle accns- tomed to the ways of children, so aH he conhi do d safe. Ere long his words had the desired effect »nd soon she remained quietly in his arms lookiT^' ^to h» face wrth big, wondering eyes. Passing^rZw tte lodge, Butland sat down upon the trunk ofTS tree just outoide the door. He phiced the TuidZo^ his knee, and began to talk to her. He pointrf ourto with ;u '^^'^^y^ grew bright, her face beamed w.th pleasure, and she dapped her hands with delight ^a few moments they were the firmest of fnends Sd «L It was a bahny morning, with not a ripple upon 28 IF ANT MAN Sm the surface of the river A ««» * v into Butland's heart ^* ht^Z ^l^"*^ °' P««^« «tole child with her X^d Lllf %hf *'' "t ^' *^« little maid, with wavy h^2\ • "^^^ * beautiful clear, dark eyes. Sa^^Z^^'^"' '^^ ^^««^' «id her shoes were of flu^^^:ZrMf'T^ -^ a small silver clasp-pin ^th th! ^''" *^''** ^^ paring breakfast ^"° '""°«'' "«« PW- now, but I shaU come back soon ., *"• ^ ""»* «<> «TO/ "^a. mere'^iTa^ »'--»• ^akemeton^ ip^4.^xaz;,rs::f.i^^"- '-- tears'in Jt::t\1i^\r'^' '^^y' ^^ i^^y^^^'^aTaS^ltttrtr- - src.'nrs-^-rS— - ready assembled, and by the tim^P T . ^"^ ''""" *^- had tile body of f >,« ? ^°*^*°'^ *"*^^ed they the presence of death 8«ir/*w ^^^ ''^^^°«' ^<>r --ons .en. r ^r^-rri^^to^^^ ^'Vt^'^VlOr A WILDERNESS WAIF 29 .ul'hff"*^'"'- '*^> *« «"'• "d •ook'd down noon tprpri Tir»,;i «*.''"'' e"^^ °^ea- ^hey were rude and unlet- r^r.r:rr::e.trroS -c "^ --i the shrouded form lying in tte ^e h7», ""'J XLlrif ' ""•' -«>-. w^orhad^bTruTe; of the precious toU the wilderness had taken H^ mat would beeome of ZX ^JT^ '^'>^'^- He was roused from his reverie W *iZ ^ ., ^ov^s strildn, hard upon ^^^C' ul l^t^^J^ !r ^®^®' ^^''^ an instant only he heaitafp/l o«^ ,t^n straightening himself up J ^^^'^riSt "Wait a moment," he commanded "It i. n„f ^ ..* that we should lay this woman here withou?^ „T» ^^ of prayer. Who wiU say itt" "*'* '"*^''"' «"« word onfa^Sr'^ ""^ "" ^'"'^- ""* «■« -" loo^ at BTi'.^' ^s^^^-- 80 IP ANT MAN SIN forever. He p.««dl i„ .„ ™_fhurch .way from him *i«. Twice hTi^ ^ f"".*" '■'^ "' "omething watching him Hb «,„!♦ ' '^ *■" ">«" »«™ of Nance Wher AUen7h "T'^f ''^*' «>« '^'J' he repeated the word, h?'^^''""r ^^" "f^^er, daya, ""^ ^^ """^ ™«i so often in othe^ here deS 1^ IrX *' "?' "' •"" "«« '"'te' «ronnd,^«rth to eaSr^^^T-* ""Z "^^^ *° «" Here he paused aiooned ^ ^- **' "'"^ *» ''''»»•" .Prinijit tbt^^'utnlKy'-^^f/^T' continued the prayer to thVend Cni. . "*' '"' and remained perfectly riT^t watlto^ ,K '^"'^'^ '"'* rapidly filled in and rou^dek ,?„ .^ °'"' " ^'^ be stood there until h^; ? *'"' *""*• 1° &«». the river ^^^T^ . companions had gone back to together into tTf™ 1":^"^,^^ ^'»t«°«'J ^em mo^e-hide thong he had i^'C^p^kft " SV "i ™T at the head of the upwIv «.o!r P^*®*' ^'^^ ^e placed down into i^elZejX " ^""^ "^"^^^ >' '^ ".fttdrdStxt^rthn'''^ ^••'-- " he would repeat that pra^er" Xt:? ^LTdfci^* ».-'■ ^:^ fcii A WODEBNESS WAIF n m7^ ^Tf f"**^ •' '^* "«•• "I did it .U for th. temporary weakne™. At once there il.d,ed into hi mmd the words of the aged bishop. "Do you ttiS PoaaiWe. Rutland's hands clenched hard as the ^rj/f •*! "f '"'P' "P"" •■'»• He reached doTO uid Uid his hand upon the cross he had just erected He would tear it out and br«U. it into a dC ^• But « he touched that ^bol of redemptioThU o^ low. Though an outcast, and determined to have nott.- ^ more to do with his Church, he knew now 4« t. M^ed to uproot the teaching which had been ta^ planted m his heart and mind in early days, and cZ. fa^nounshed throughout the ye. J bS' he w:S^ Bo^. Never .gam would he aUow such weakness to P^ hnn. He would prove the bishop's words to be th.T^r^"*^!' "^"^ *° ** encampment he found ttat hu, companions were almost ready to depart. Nuice «w hm. .pproaching, and with a ciy of delight ZZ ^«^^th '"?^' '" ^ "" '"^ -^ h.s heart thnlled with goy at her confidence. Here was the one person m the whole world to greet him and Wk up to him for protection. He carried her to whe^ sevC Indi^i women were squatting upon the ground rou rtay here, little one," and he gently untwined girl, and I shaU come back to you some day." 82 IF ANY MAN SIN 1 u!! * ^""^ ^"*' ''^•'^ ^»*« **»« child lifted her hemd wail of despair clung to him closer than ever. -Ti^mewT '°'\r?"'^'* '^^"^ '"«'" "^e sobbed. I wfn\^ntri ::jft7 *^ -^^ -- -^ — Bntland did not know what to do. He seated himself fpon a stump and plac«l Nance on his kne^ He ™if wit^rriTdi'"' *'""* *"' '""' ""p"^ ■*» -»'"^ her X^ T""' ""* ''»'' **' """W «•" for Wked thl^w"'?' r™ °' "» ""l- The more he oomn.''"'" '"'° "" "™'" '"""^ Kutland that hto compamons were ready to depart. Quickly rising to hfa fet, he unloosened t'-e child's arms, handed her to ^ ^d squaw and moved rapidly away. At once JS .hneks of despair and terror filled the air. He^- But It was no use. He stopped and looked back He stretched out appealingly toward him. The si^t w» more than he could endure. Hesitating no l^r Z rushed back, seized her in his arms, bore her Z^v to he nver, and pUeed her gently ik one rf Z^^ In a few mmutes they were speeding northward, and w.th them went Nance, the litUe waif of the wildL^ ) CHAPTEB 17 U a} B7 TBI MIRBOBINa hAZB /^P aU the sheets of water lying hidden in the great V^ range of mountains sloping to the cold North Pacific Ocean, none was fairer than Lake Klutana. It was one of nature's most beautiful cameos. Tall, dark trees of spruce, fir, and jack-pine shouldered back from the margin and cast irregular silhouettes around the bor- der. Lofty mountain peaks towered beyond and re- fleeted their coronals of snow in the lake which they embosomed. To the north-east stretched a long wooded Talley with crouching foot-hills on either side. Down through this opening flowed a small river, called by tiie Indians the "Quaska." Where this stream joined the lake the land was level, which from time immemorial had afforded an excellent camping ground for the na- tives of the locality. In days long past the Tasko tribe had been a large one. Hundveds of them had come regularly to this lake to catch the fine sahnon, white, and other fish its water contained. At times mighty warriors had gone forth to make aids upon neighboring tribes, and once a furious battle had taken place among the trees at the mouth of the Quaska. But wars and diseases haa thinned the tribe until it numbered barely one hundred ■in j nacftj i te ^^ — 34 ^^ ANY KAN SIN &« were " ^""'^ •"'^(T into^ r*"^ »»«» """A « free Md^'"'^*? "'»' the sho« if „*"»°* "diKrtrial life T^ "° '"^ grinding «^h!°°? »' "« eontina^ly ^f*- V*^ "• taxes to mv /"' "^« "ore it. Changiae Lt ^°"t« ^^ort needld . ^** «>e exeeptionT^L*f /Z"" "«« »nfa,o^ !f j" »"«>• Tie «rS tte L"^^ .fe..e™t4 *" "'^ « did yards awav -m. ^ «»campment «., , °^ **»» BY THE MIBBOBING LAKK 35 ^. At length they came to . lodge where a middle- ?™.ST2^'°" "■**"*""»• Aothemen^^ tooked mtently „p,u the m^ ,rfth the burden L hto «™s. Hp eompan: .m. «tterod a few words in the gut tn^ native tongue, ai.d si once the girl Btenned for ward and relieved the man of the bunSe 4'en a c^ held the Irttle white face of a sleeping child peeniM otrt fi„m beneath the blanket with^Mch i? Z^2 . ^^'^ B°««»d had greatly changed in appearance amce the morning he had caught N^ife in hfa .^ w we«tn^"hW '^ *" *"* "'•"• ^^ "- -^-d were long, his face was worn and haggard, while hia l^^Tri"*""'"- ^^'^^wtl^tNan',^ was m good hands he gave a sigh of relief, unstrapped tte pack from his back, and sank, much ediusted^Jot ae ground. A conversation at once ensued betw^n hb ^^mp^ions and the Indian women. Then;^,^": rf thl^^LT" "T^ to broil a fish over the hot coS^ of the fire-ptaee. Rutland was very hungiy, and nev« did any food teste as good as the piece of »Cn S Z.'Z f ':f to "m by the kind-hearted ^^^. a^i^ m .*"' *"*'? °"^' ""* " "-tisfled his appetite. When he was through he lighted his pine Peorie tt, t„^ T ^°* ""<'«'^d the language of these people the two Indian men knew a few words of Eng- iMh. He accordmgly learned that these women wew H XFANTKANSiN I i t»* mueh. It ^^ sHoSortrM^? »M too tired to «8»i»«t the butt of f C -??' '^^ «■««. leMUi* "P from hi, wea^^;7'f"»f «>» ™oke curlSJ now gathered arouTZf^^T.- ^" ^<««°» h^ fcU upon his ears. He^™- T*f "»' ''^ «' voices f^tered upon SuJ aST^^" ^ ««"'^'«»«^ Jfdge. But this did notta„!ht.f- •'^^'P '^"^ the tti»S alone disturbed ^^^ '^ » «>« '^ast One would be forced to leave 1^ f ^""^^^d if he o^P after camp durine ^ ^^ « he had to abandon Je >a. there. wKtdC:t.^'r='^'<'' " dians uninfluenced by the rh,fT .^'^ » ^'^^ "t In- «eined that such a t^'^^l f ^ »■« had in.- however, he had been Sen aIIT «^- I" this, where he and Nance haTTeftX' J^l ^^ """'^ Post, "on church. That eveniif af ^^^ '?''"> ""^ « «^ be", the Indians had left wiatlvt t?^^ "^ «■« "'«• flocked to service. Bu^ tZ.-"''^."'''"* *>^^ «nd place for him, had lefttT ^'wmg that this was no «"- la compafy '^^'LtS r^,^*"- - ^ enc«npment miles away bZ. Tl^ ^ "'^^ an «m.in. But no, evrout in ih ' ^^^"^ '« ^uH Indians gather l^^ettert^ Uwf^ "'^ "« »" the fl-efsclves down to sleep. He ™th^"? *" "^"^ '^i «n"08ity, thinking they JZ t!^ **" w^f" much ancient ^^.tC^J^^^^tt^^'^ '^o™ »"» leader, spoke a few woX f^ji Iv '"* '^"nied to be a Though he did not uTde^'* *"".»" "«»« to Z^. ho recognised the t^;?f^'l''»"'.?? "^e languag^' --heredhowimpre:Iv:;t.^4^^ BT THE MIRBORING LAKE ^ wliat fine voicos they had. When they finished they aU knelt down, and the leader prayed. A feeling of adnura- taon swept over Rutland as he watched them. Then his 0^ heart began to rebuke him for the first time smce he left the Ministry. Here were these natives, children of the wild, putting him, who had taken su^l solemn vows upon himself, to utter shame. Had they only known the life-story of the white man in thei midst, what would they have thought of the Christian reb^onT He had looked into their sincere faces, and for the first tmie in years felt humbled. It was im- possible for him to remain here. How could he, whose Me was a faUure and a disgrace, endure the presence of such trustmg people? Their simple faith stabbed him to the heart and brought back memories he waa stnving so hard to forget. He accordingly fled to other encampments, but every, where it was the same. Out on the hills, in forest depth, or by inland lakes, he found that the Church had been ahead of him and had influenced the natives m a most remarkable manner. He learned, too, that these Indians were not the ordinary miserable creatures sometunes seen hanging around stores and nulwav sta. tions. They were the nobility of the land, and hiving once embraced the teaching of the Church, they en- deavoured to put their beKef into practice. More than once the words of his bishop uttered ten years ago came to his mmd, and he began to realise that they were truer than he had imagined. Thus he fled from camp to camp, and almost de- spaired of ever reaching a band of Indiims untouched by the Christian reUgion. Hearing at length of the wfm> IF ANY MAN SIN islmess i, bri^ 1^^ chried lm»«If f„, u. tool. been weU cared for» ^eH^^hTortl^l "T"" '"'" tn^gled over the cruel tnS^U l^Jf '"'^.'".'!« >™s. «.d he upbraided ^S *^S^t ^^ " ^ •woke and cried piteously foTbfr fLw^ when she Bnt as a rule he wm »i.^ «, . f . ' "^ °«>f'e'- She fa«d be;r;Z?fda^*2* Jr" '" '^*' ''^ Indian women yied ^th „„« . Z ^■""^'^ "^P ^ girl, who now X^flZ^^J^:^ '"" *« land's!:™ for NancT4^^1^?*y*'«^, »""^ severe tusk of bearin., l,.VT^ ^ * "^^ P»"«^ The ««me at tast a iS^He ^ " ''"*. '^<» »f t™a be- prattling tali, S h^^Z'^^ 1^ ^^^ "^ '» inwgined that he was ^t' f'^*""^*^ ^<^y^ She Christians he would abMe hm foJ .t /•*'^" '*" cany Nance off somewh^^tf tl,. ^Z*^" "^ *^*° they would live al^T .^S^^v^V^^™*^ ''bere or whites. H^lr^Z ^^^ ^^ '^"^ ^"^^ for he knew 4«njt^„M "^ '""""''' "* *'^e ^ time at w & ni:i r'Lr'^^^'^ '» « was anxious to «cSn wW^ T^' ^"^^^ »>« hold a service mrrTi.i^^*'" *^'^ ^^P'* """Id eveainj- wore on he was greatly relieved when 'ti.^*..' _m^-msM '^ij BY THE MIREORING LAKE ^e Indians began to move away to their various lodges. He now believed that he was safe, and that these na- tives were free from aU influence of missionary enter- prise. At length he picked up his violin case which was lymg by his side and opened it. Through all the hard- ships of the past weeks he had never relinquished this companion. It had cheered him when most depressed and by means of it he had been able to entertain and please the Indians who had been so hospitable to him As he now tuned up the instrument and drew the bow across the strings a movement took place in the camp Indians came from all sides and gazed with wonder upon the white man, who was producing such mar- ▼ellous sounds. As Rutland continued to play the na- tives squatted around him upon the ground. Their only musical instrument was the mournful Indian drum But this was altogether different. On one occasion several of the men had listened to the sound of a violin at the fur-trading post, and they had never wearied of teUing what they had heard to the rest of their tribe They were naturally musical, these waife of the wilderness. The sighmg of the breeze, the murmur of the stream, and the roar of the tempest in winter, aU had their meamng. They were sounds which soothed or roused their wild nature. So as they listened this ni^t their hearts became strangely affected. Something more than ordmary began to stir within them. It was the same old story bemg repeated here in the northland. It was the beginning of a new life, new longings, and new aspirations. It was, in short, the dawn of Art which once moved the hearts of the uncouth ancestors of the _ ^MS* ^- OiiWrMANSIN eivilwation. They felt nnW . /^° °^ ^°® mstoiy of iaSdo ^.^„r ^'^"^ "*'«^ and laid hfa violin land crerrt^ftW . / one-who knows? But- fesnlground. ~ ""v, was soon &st jdeep upon the ^j i J CHAPTBB y X CABIN KB TWO F-JhfT ^^^ """"At^-gth WM much renewed. J. n,e InduuB treated him with great kindness, and (White ehdd. Wrth hooks suppUed him by the natives Mamn succeeded in catching a nnmber of ibe satorn m the kke, and these formed excellent food. He loS^ed forward .!«, to ;V hm>ting of moose and moun^^ «heeR for he had brought with him a good rifled a number of cartridges. His spirits natumUy ros^ ^he days passed. To him the life was ideal ^"« was . freedom from eare. and with Nance by his ride heXn wandered for hours along the shore^of fte iX n, d^d thoroughly enjoyed these roubles, and ma^y ^„ about the numerous things she saw Idl^^ *°^ '■'"M *^* '* """^^ »»' «» t« "main hmi that summer was passing, and unless he had a shel- ter for fte wmter their porition would be a sorry one 8^ lodges as the Indians used would be un^We to them when frost sealed the streams and storJTert Jr^J^i^r *': ""•'• .^^ •""'"^^'^ searching tied upon a beautiful spot near the mouth of the Quaska 41 7t-J^Z ' I ^tri^-. IP ANT MAN SIN Kv^whe« tm, rtood ia abundance suitable for hi. a-^-r-™'^---inp^^ a fcrm, jnd was weU accnrtomed to the use of the a^^ loreed at tune, to ♦oil as a laboa*r to earn his dailv b««i He now p„. his hsart into his task and worted to ad^ no one for the nse of the land, and the trees w.~ rtandmg ready for him to cut. As he deared th^lT^ he would stand at times and look out over the lake Thl' thnU of ownership possessed his soul, and hefeh aatT! wouMnot e^hange his lot for the m^S wtd ^ on e«th. Bveiy day Nance accompanied himlmd gaycd among the trees and branches He buiirhe"* ^tle phyrhouse and sometimes he would sit Ther le SiiXh^aa'^"' ""• " *^ """> '^^ 'o ^'St^'' The cabin Martin planned to bnfld was not a 1«™. rcoiTh't '7 *'•' "" ^^'-^ »^>Ont »^ M cosy as ha hands could make it. There were to h. two rooms; one where they would liye^d Z ^ht where previsions would be stored " ,.t!^Z *""* *'»"*'ti<>n l^d been laid Martin began to e«^ Stones frem the river «,d the shore o1 1^^ bnUdmg. 11,8 „„ a ^^^^ ,, considerable importance ^d occupied him for several weeks. The Z^S ^t^ ?""'»; ."^'P^l. and then, laid carefully to^er with clay, which he found by digging along '^he'Zre •» A CABm FOB TWO 43 of the Wm. Thia, when hwdened. wa. ahaoet lik. ^^ «d «^ed hi. pnrp^e better'than Z^^ When the flre-pUce waa completed, and tapered off into a capacons chimney, he set to work upon CwaS of the eabin. Logs, hewn on three sides ^MdT, npon another, and atted eloeely to^Z^ n» cZ! tort Moss was used for the chinkinit of the wall. ^ to obtain this Martin and Nance went eve^li^rS «;amp a short distance bacic from the X.^ffl * sufficient supply was gathered. By the time this work was completed the days wer« much shorter. Martin w«. anxious to oc^pyTX in the Indmn lodge mij*t not be good for Nance Tft much dUBculty he faduoncd a doo^It was aTrvel™ contrivance when finished, and Martin was qSJe pS of his Wiwork. He had no glass for wtodowf ^ JO was for^ to use the skin, of mounta^ZTft a» ha^ removed and scaped veiy^ "iC S^le'^d'™" '^'^'^^ '** ^ IsiderablelSS dunng the day, and kept out the wind and cold as weU The floor w«, made of logs, hewn a. smooth as the^ codd make them. The Uving room was only ei^t^ feet long by twelve wide, which could eerily L^^ and quite large enough for two ' entfcTA*-^ time in his life Martin possessed a house ^«Iy ^ own „d which he h«i built with his oto KomrwSTan'n'l'^ "If^^ *» "^^ « ♦1. "^ V^^** '^^ *^a^eryl would occupy. He often thought of those daynireams as he toiled rt i^Zm. '^ a IF ANT MAN SIN y *! « In t»et sbe had been mm* in >•;. —i.j • iM tJ^ , fc " *e <*n«h and listened to herZ* ipc. Try a , he might, he eould not forget her alttZS^ the remembrance alwava tiw>n.»,* -T?! ' ""'•''Pi heart of what he hTwS oZ^^"" ^ "^ *wake at night thinking rfttJlLwtn S," '""''' "' much together At tinL Irv a , ""^ '"* «> longing Ce he^aj^ 5^1^ "^f '"^"» nm^toT^^i^s^-:,^ °rr '"•'^, "•> ^ tired at night that h" sKu^t n^tu'I'l'™^ " ff^.^h--^rj-S^^^^ ^^^h^TSwo^^ChSs-:? flre^hght playmg npon her face and hair.^ *' Jtes, happy," the child renlied TI,«,. .1, i- i , length a^. «» *» ""^ P«P» and mammaf" ahe at ^ "Notyet,Nance,"«ndMartin'BvoiceTO8low. "Ton "'i^W'^^ A CABIN FOB TWO 45 lS?!f*^r'*^°*''''*^^^- But tell me about them little one, for I never knew them/' ' «anw lifted her head and looked gtraight into he^ rt^ririr „^ *T ""^ -wd to teU me Iw"« r^ 1 """"i ""'' *' ""'^ ^'^ •»« when iwrattobed. I wonder where she can be." "Oh ™ T fl"""*; ^""*'" '^'^ ""kod. „ft.n7'iJ [ "^^ »"» ones about fairies. Mamma ^ told me about Alice in Wonderland. Do you W tJ«»^t.»op„tty. Ill get mamma to ten Vto^:: A lump came into Martin's throat as he listened fa the prattle of this child. How could he eve^he^ th. she would never see her dear parenteon L^ whole truth nowJ But no, it would be bettertowS? 'zrc^r'"'""'-^''^'- ABuddeJid^e:::: . J^^ ^""^' '"P'"* '« P"*? «>»* I ««n your daddy »d that your mamma is sitting right here by our^d^'. Oh, yes," Nance was ready for the game "and ITl «J1 you 'daddy,' and we^U talk to m,^ St2 behcTe that she 's right here " ^^ Di^"^ v" *!'/ P-^ i» "^ old parish had Martin pwtured to hunself a scene similar to this. It had aU b«n so real: an open fire, a child on his knee, L Be.t" ^ h»^«de. He closed his eyes, while si^h es^^:^' 1 f < .J.J* ■««"-« Ji«Et » =», li .' ''5«?tl 4fi ^ ANT MAN SIN «i nl'^i^^^ ^* ■^^'^ «* the name "Are Tm. BleepyT Why do you do thatt" ^ 'Do what?" ^h, thi^" .nd A. d«w in to brnth. „d Ut it o«t turned toZ i^J.?^' °* '•"• ■»«««»•'" «i«i ah. ,T™ , !" anaginaiy penon nearby. „ J;"«t ™ yon want me to dot" leu a Btoiy, Nance! What kind of a «»» j WantT" ' '"* 00 you "Oh, a fairy story, about flowers nnH w,j. ^ Peopl^a story like m,„nm.^;'';^i,ff^ "^ "^ tbe ^ad wL^r^ t'ru.5- ^»„- • ^^-atory Goon d^idy," Nance demanded '^• «W^, ?^*r'J'^ I'-n only thinking." Well, don't think." was t»i» ™„...; Talk" ^^ imperious command. Uui^^rha'df^lS^'"---. ne Had a big dog, too, and they were always "rt. A CABi:^* FOB TWO '■J * i- 47 ■0 happy together. Then the boy grew to be a man, and he had a garden all his own. He had many trees and beautiful flowers to look after, and he loved them very much, especially the little baby flowers. These came to him, and he would talk to them, and tell them what to do to make them grow strong and beautiful." "What I could the flowers talkt" Nance asked in amazement. ' * Wasn 't it funny T ' ' "Yes, those flowers could talk, and understood evexy- thing the gardener told them." "What is a gardener!" "Oh, the man who was once a little boy." "I see." Sleepily. "Well, after a while the gardener hurt one of his flowers." "He did I" Nance was wide awake now. "Wasn't hebadl How did he hurt it f" "He just broke it down, so it could never stand up fWain." "Oh!" "Yes, Nance, that's what he did, and he had to leave his garden and go away." "Go on," Nance demanded as Martin paused. "Yes, he went away, for such a long time, and tried to forget all about his garden. Then in a strange place he saw one of his most beautiful flowers and heard her sing." "What! can flowers sing!" "This one could, so beautifully. But the gardener did not dare to speak to her. She knew what heMbad done, and he was afraid. So he ran away again, %ar off into a land of wilderness. :j^. 18 IFANritANgi^ le found an.^;'„^ ",» ;- ^n^^t ThenZ JJ^ J»ter, but Kme kind ^rf!" v'"^ '•"«> *»*«> the The gariener took th& K flfJ "' • r** «"«» ^er he went He bnilt aKHi.t, *' '"* "^ whereve. thecS^ ^~"'^^' "»«'•" „d sleepier ft«a 4*^ Ktrr/ort^ern-"-^ •-* '^ had faUen asleep in"fa L^r ^?t '""*"» Nanee. wh^ . the child eentl/in the „rt ^* ^'"^ *« «<« wl for her with s/ch c^! ^"CT^^K '' "'^ P"P««^ Wanket he had obtainedX^n ^r l"" '""" °P *» «■* •while watching her l^ flTfl^t °'''*°- H« "ood fo. Ho then PiSplL 4^ .^?*'"? ««^t of the 1^ to pUy soft and low STtj^'*' """^ '"'"wW. b.X «ide, but Martin heSed^t ^T'aT^. ^ '"'"^^ l«ly opened, and he 1^ ,!;„t,T*""*~' h«^ ^^ ^^ an en- ««t wow for « tinw forgTtJH ^^^ ""*•»«• o' •««»rT^i^iiM?^ OM Bfll p. CHAPTEB VI ^nS BABD TO FOBGBT rpHE foUowing weeks were busy ones for Martin. ■1. Winter was fast closing in and he had many things to attend to. First of aU it was necessary to lay in a sufficient supply of food to last them until nring. Of fish he had plenty, and these were accordingly ^ched high up between three large trees, safe from prowling dogs or other animals. He next turned his attention to the hills and tbrest It was an exciting and memorable day when he brought down his first moose. He was a big f eUow, with great branching antlers. Martin, in company with an Indian, had come upon him as he was quietly browsing in a wild meadow, several miles back from the lake. To Martin it seemed a most contemptible thing to creep up and shoot the unsuspecting creature. But such a feeling had to be overeome if he and Nance were to live through the winter. At the first shot the moose gave a tremendous leap into the air, and dropped upon his knees. In his excite- ment Martin rushed from cover, and exposed himself to view. The wounded animal saw him, and in its dying rage charged suddenly upon his assailant. His antlers were but a few yards away and in another instant they; eo II* ANT MAN SIN (■ I ^«t«i and agisted ^r Wg i-^ *T. "■ ^'^ '"»*^ • long circular ItoerftraL^^^ ^'*°^ J-' "mat •"ecea, awarded Ko™ TT- ^t ««* »»e.8r. ci»nge took pUee. ^J^Z 1,^* "^ « »«^ • homo «>ve«a fa^y p^ ^^''" *"• *» ">*««■ •fanned, and placed uiimTJL* J^ '"» Promptly ^ taught hi^ 1^ S^f '"^•^ '"^<* *« I»d^ I>nruig Martin's ahaenc «L„ i.- , J»»ng Indian ^^^J^'^J^'"' '^^ «" *«««me firm frienda. But tt.^i/ "' "^ ^V ttm derful easy-chair He ll"!.°r^ " *""«• ""-l • won- left of the fire-placT ^T"^ » «"•«" to the ■"-'^"'^'^"^.-"Mch^eSr^ria:;"^- •*^' **fk, • *»-. < he m it e, t k t I TIS HABD TO POBGET 51 *l dresBed moose skin which he had obtained from the na^ lives. The cabin was thus made fairly comfortable, and when lighted by the blazing fire it presented a most oo^ appearance. Martin was not satisfied, however. He longed for more cooking utensils, as well as some pictures to adorn the bare walls. He needed, too, different food for Nance. Her principal diet consisted of meat and fish, and much of this was not good for a white child. Dried berries, and bulbous roots, supplied by the Indians, afforded a pleasing change. These had been procured during the summer, and throng native skill had been dried and compressed into cakes. Such delicacies ha^ to be doled out very sparingly, although the women gave what they could to the little pale-face maid of whom they were becoming very fond. ^ Every night Naitce played upon the floor by Martin's aide with a funny doll he had made for her. She was delighted with it, and could never have it out of her aight for any length of time. The wilderness life agreed with her, and living so much in the open her face was well browned, and her cheeks like twin roses. Martin was very particular about her appearance, and as he could not always attend to Nance himself he had in- structed Quabee in the art of caring for a white child. At first the Indian woman was much puzzled, but through patience she at length learned what was desired of her. Cleanliness Martin insisted upon, and this was something that Quabee could not at first understand. With much labour Martin had hewn a fair-sized bath- tub out of the butt of a large pine tree. It had taken him days to perform this, but when it was finished he 52 !i D" -ANT MAN SIN woman was quick intelli^^ ?^ *"'• '*« Indian the way, „;«,, ;SrSrHr* '^'™ *• '«»™ ier own, she placed he/!?£„;- ^* "» '^"'''^ of Weaof receiviigTyforhl ° '""° ^""^- ««1 the taU, atraight, and ^me^^Z^""^ ^ "^^ "»y». «> happy as when wittTaTce X» """ ^" "" ""^ «nd the child soon be^r'l.. "^'^ P'"^ '^th her, wonfa, While QuabeeTSe^iS" » T^' "' ^'"'^«- the English language C In^^ " ^'"''dge of fe«t little dresses ofthe W „1^^ '"'?'" "^ '»»<'«» the white child, trmZgT^J"^. ^'''^ &' coloured fringes. S^n^^*!^*,^-^ "d wd when Nance was fDlIvTHTT^ * °"^« »8 »eU, Martin though; ri^\:^J»«*''«ti™ costume "ight. ^ "*'" seen a more beautifnl fluence upon the iX^ Itelf '^'^^ "^ "" neater in appearance, andZ daill ^""^ *""""'«* »«•« like the white jWle ''" *"'y/?^«avoured to aet ««atly pleased with the io bring jmi fee. "I wsntTn^ dot Tf ^»"«''t'»% »to th, 80 to sleep. I %Z^Z^ ^ T 'r ^^^ ""» «-i the little Indian ehil^^^^7^J^,Q-bee. ^-^^r^aK^^^ f^' they cornel Do you think fL^^n O^, why |^»t j^j„ « you think they wiU come tiiis Christ- Ud a ^ *nS HABD TO FOBGET "Not this Chrigtmas, Nance. You must wait, and some day you will tmdentand why they cannot come to you now. But we'll fix up a tree, a little one, won't wef* he suggested in order to divert her attention. "Well find a nice one and put it right by your bed, and well play that your daddy and mamma are here." "Oh, yes," and Nance clapped her hands with delight. "And well let the Indian children see it, won't wet Oh, that will be lovely ! ' ' After Nance had been tucked into bed, and was fast asleep, Martin picked up another strip of birch bark, and scrawled a note to the trader at Fort O' Rest. "They may have something suitable for a child," he mused, as he gazed thoughtfully upon what he had writ- ten. ' ' Nance will be terribly disappointed if she doesn 't get something. They will have sugar, at least, and that will be better than nothing. ' * As Christmas approached Martin became uneasy. The tree had been found, and was standing at the foot of Nance's cot. Every day he expected the arrival of the Indians from the lort, bringing with them the long- looked-f or supplies and presents. They were much later than usual, so Quabee informed him, as it generally took them twelve sleeps to go and return. The day before Christmas Martin's anxiety increased. Nance talked almost incessantly about what Santa Claus would bring her, and asked all kinds of questions. Mar- tin went often to the door, and looked far off towards the woods whither the trail led, hoping to hear the jingle of bells, the shouts of the Indians, and the joyful yelps of the dogs. But no sound could he hear. The great forest) silent and grim, revealed nothing to the anxious u IF ANY MAN SIN I > 1' th. return of th?^ ^^ ^^ ^'"'^^ ex,-ted tJMt he pUyed with Nin~ » i j 7 **" ' '**'^ J"*"* things upon my tree " ^ ^"^ ^^ He piotn;erher^r^±-^ " ^ ^*» *^» «^ ler eyes „d fl^d tte^'Tl^* "^" *f •"°*^ «»fore. What could he ^^Jt ? '* ""^ *''* "^t** •ble to «K>the h?r sor^wT ^^\T^ t'Z """^ "" "» tucked into her lituT^T ri.J?„?^ ^ *** "" '«"«»' tin's neck «nH «:, ^ ""* '*' »™» "oond Mar- tr^, won't youf Oh. I'm » happy "'^ ^^°*' °* *^» -.«r.«oth.Tfre«:hM«,^'^!^rh't and weaye such a wonderful ZaZT^t^^^ have scorned the idea. B^Z^ttaX^?" ??"* there was far dearer to him C ^eii'JJSt'r? liJ^su^*:; Zd^'i^'ti:'""^'^ S« ^« *"» • PPiy or wood m the comer. He felt that it w 3 I- 518 HABD TO FOBOET tr ne WM at length •nmsed by the fuat jingle of bella «d . no« enWde. He ep»„g to hi. fei^d iLS '^het^wt'!;"*'*^'^''^' H»"yi«toth, aoor, be thiev it open, and peeted forth. Thei» faefnn> imwe«.fl.ef.m,.f„..„„daog,. TheW^ greetings to the native, were answered by several gnmtt They were too anxious to get to their own tod^to waste any tune in talk just now. Presently ,ev«X^ eels werehanded to him, and Martin was murs^iS^' at their number. He placed them upon the fl^^ when the Indians h«l departed he cCd the d^r wd ««me^"«tkeeptoys,sohewrote,bnta mission port had been established there the previona rommer and he had shown the missionary and his wife tiie bmjh-bark letter. They accordingly became much mterested m the little girl away in the wilderness, and Had made np the parcel of presents for her This was the substance of the letter, and every word W Itself mto Martin's sonL He sank into his chair, hoWmg the paper in his hand, which trembled from the ^emence of his emotion. So these presents were the gift of the Church. He knew very weU that they had bj^n sent in a bale to the mission by some society of the Cainrch to which he had once belonged. The words of lus old bishop flashed into his mind: "Do you imagine that you can cut yourself off from the influence of the Church of your childhood T I tell you that you are mis- taken for such a thing is utterly impossible. The Church and her influence will follow you to the grave no matter to what part of the world you go." Martin St TIB HABD TO FOBOET ■ «»u»a " he mli«d how true WTO the* worti H. m^m» h. knew «m .„d«,to«i the power rf th, , prewit. in his hand, and carried them to the fire. He «a.er than the latter remor., which wa. «,«, to foIloZ A. he stood there, heaitoting for an instant, Nanco •toed m her deep. "Daddy, Santo Caau.," Ae m^ to to draw back. The perspiration stood in be«is npon »nMl"**^ ."^ caused by the iire alone. T^,2^ nm the duld. It was a stem battle he was fighting. How conld he accept those presents &om the Church! ^^ f^"' T^""* •'f .^PP^i"* N«.cef He wavered th! iT" ^? •* "" P^ "'*'^«''t •>? the position of tte stora All w« stiU and cold. The sharp^ cooled B 1 r5 "^^ "mewhat calmed his excited mind. ^w .f */~'" ""* "* ^'"™- It "" Christmwi monung tie day which had always brought such a peace mto hn, soul until his fall. He thought of it now and of the days of youth when he had gone with his parents to the Kttle parish chunA. He «w tS^o^ ^g the fiunmar words of "HarkI the Herald Cu Smg and "0 Come, AUTeFuthful." He knew ^t m a few hours they would be singing them again in the to n* ANT MAN SIN Mho aught he could not baniah the Tirion oftt. n^ which came to him thia night A n.ir,#7?_. "^ juddenly to .„,„nnd hSfwhilt I oM fc ^T^ff wi t "t r hX"t t? rr^r :iis^^«. .^VJ^'JW^ ry ist sd it- [e 1. le i ti > I CHAPTER VII THE CZASILBSS THBOB ^FTER the Chriatmas excitement life settled down day with her doU and o ^er to^ a'/^"^ ^"^ *^' rd^a::sLT;Lir.ev"^^^^^^^^^^ »-. ««nng tne long evenings remained at home Thpr* Iw.^ went to W eS.Vr'^fh.'r *""% ^""^ told to her. Silence ibj^'i^jt^t T"" f"'' «?ly V the crackling of t1^ ::d the J^Ti o"?'*:" bTekZ, , ,, ,*" "" """""K ebe for him to do i-r, ^IT^' ""^ '^'^ '" o'™ thonghtT^ *or a while he was contented wit), .i,,-. • x aolitndB n„t iir _• "'"'*'"*<' witu this quietness and concealed within the shin H^ Wi i ?® ®''^« He knew wi.of •* X * ^ ^*^ ^<*^ other things. i life of ZZr ^'''•^^ ">"'-l »»t endor. I 'e2 IP ANY MAN Sm 5 4„f 17 K^', ^ ""' ™** ""*'^ *k» wfld«ne« m' maatiable longmg came upon him for booto, or reading matter of some Jdnd. He thought of his welS Jidye. u. hi. old paridi. What a pride he haTfX «»Ud be alone for a whfle with his faTourite authon. But now he had nothing, not even a «srap of a new^ paper. He looked awund the barren ^m. ^^ ' teemor ri.«,k his body ^ he realised what Uttk Zj^ ZlViZZ ^^^ ^"^ "■<>« "^ -^^ with K^rt!" K • tj;^* •» opportunity for reading, he mused, hy the bngftt light of the open fire. '-.^t Z" ^'^ *•"» one evening when the door "fUy 0^ „d Taku and Quabee glided into Z ™ ;. J??"!^ "J^ '^^ ^~'- 1» J^ •««• M«rtin ^p eased ttat they had come, as he was beginning to J^v^ ^^^\^r *"» """hehaved nah^T^e ^'^nnl^'^hJ^ T" *° talking with them. He did tt^ would have proven most congenial company. . By tt.„ ..nanner he knew that they had come for «mejj,ec»l purpose for they were urusoally dlent, and«tf«r a tome without «iying a worl. Martin of! «M*d Taku a plug of tobacco, which the Utter took. ^ lu. pipe and then huided it over to his wife «oon large voW of smoke were filling the room, . olt S^T" "' "*''^° "^ "•»" *^» '-^ "Ooodl" Taku ejaculated, looking at Martin. "Fin, ■quaw. At" and he motioned towards Quabee ^ Martin nodded. .sv>iirc"->r THE CEASELESS THBOB ^^^u teach W .U ««' white man, ehT- TiAa con. ;;Wh*t's that!" Martin inquired. "Me no aawey " You mak'WspikaUaam' white man?" ^* Oh,l8ee. You want to apeak white man's tonmef you want to talk as I dot" wngueT "Ah, ah, allsam*." "Maybe so," was the sbw reply. "Ill think it over You come m the morning. * ' ^^ "You mak' Injun sling, eht" "Do what!" J?^'f^' ^^" and Taku began to hum the air or a tune he had learned. ^^ ^ere did you hear 'that!" Martin asked .mwwhat dil" l^K ^^- "^'^'' »«k' beeg box aling aU sam' wJ^l. f- ^^"^ **PP^^ ^P^** ^^ fl^with hi. ^ And^d she smg, toot" Martin questioned. "And you laTvey it, ehf " "Ah, ah. Me sling all sam' white smiftw nr-. «^ ITv"" T'S* *° "*^*y ^ ^o'^ do you!" An, ah. "Well, then, I shaU think about it You come to me in the morning. Saweyt" «««« to m« -^, ah. Me savvey." When the Indians had departed Martin «it for a long tone in deep meditation. An uneasy feeling posL^ *un». He knew verv w«ll nnw ♦!,-* *i: , ^» possessea o luiew very well now that the hunters who had 64 IF ANT MAN Sm gone to th. port for rappBe. had come in contort witli ^e m»»>on«^ there, «.d had attended ser^^ wouM go back again, and each time they wo^ W, .^ ^ hold^mco «nong themaelve,, and sing fl^^ a^, knowmg of ttew Indiua, would visit them from tame to tune and hold service among them. J^inZ b«hop's warning came to him. Hewass^lTC^ now how true were those worts. He pa^Lw^^ ">d down the room. What diould he dot S S leave ttus ph«.e, and the cabin upon which he h!dpx rMer'^m't""'r''r' "^^^^^ A L^ ™ ** "^"eoM of the Church f to ta'^f tt""^Lf "M"" "^ '«* <»™«I him to pause in the middle of the room. Why had not th« ^ea come to him before! he asked himself He ^ ryTTt- ^'^'^"'^'"^'^^T. The Church h^ c«t bun off, and he had fled from it. influencl He ^i^^r"""'^:'"'^'^^- ''^ notched 5. Wn and as«nne the aggressivef The Church wm nothing to hmi now except th. great disturbTof hi peace of mind. Although he y^ only^°lt \r^ Ao^d he not show that he could retalfateT my^ away tke a eurf Would it not be better for him to ^ tB mfluence and oppose the onward march of Z 2^^"'*°*^:^*^ "^ ""• *»*" He would te^ ™1^""/ t' ^'*"* '«"«°^ ««J ^^ they ^ nnderstond bun intelligently h. would speak to tt™ THE CEASELESS THBOB d 7 65 ^nt the Church, and it would pot be to its advantage, Kte conclusion Martin arrived at this night did not toauble him m the least. He believed that he was justi- fll^ Tfr'''?i''''*'*'^"**^P"""^- He wondered why he had not done this before. More than once thai Idea came to his mind that he would like to go back to tte ways of civilisation and expose the Church He ^ew many things about it which were not generaUy known, for he had been within the inner circle. He had seen much sham, hypocrisy, and even downright sin in Stn -Z? ''f\''^ '^ *^^ ''*^«' ^d ^^^on whiS taonsj of the jealous and envy which were so ooum^, wniw"*^ t^ would unfold a tale which would startle the world. He ti^ought of aU these things as he hiy tiiat mg^t m his bunk. Not once did there come to him * Pe^ticn of his own misdeeds, but only those of others. Early in the morning Taku and Quabee came to the cabin, bnngii^ with them so many other Indians that the room could hardly hold them aU. Martin looked npon thm witii something akin to despair, although he determined to do tiie best he could to imrtructther He ^ose the amplest words at first, using the common Wildes with which they were familiar as illustrations. The natives were most anxious to learn, and repeated the ^wT "^^ ^l'^^ with remarkable patience. I^e was nol^mg to them, and in fact jthey would have remamed aXL day if Martin had been willing to instruct toem. But a lesson of two hours was aU that he could endure, especiaUy as the atmosphere in the room had become ahnost unbearable. When he stopped, and sig- se ^ AIRMAN SIN 11 'o«'th:"^J:^'°« '^''^ *«"« '«t, and .tood b^ These words were wceiv^»^h ™? *•"««' *^ eart. •ambled Mtives. Sil^'f "'^l'* •PP'ov.l bX "eant, .nd his heart W?L^ ""^ntood what the^ ajould he teach tblXd^I' ■ ^^* '^'^^ ^e do I Church which h«jllj^ir^ . "^ *^ ^^^ of th« It seemed as if theyT-^ " . T™"*^ '^ <**« '"* Proach him, and for relief h^fft 5? »PP««" Suppose he denied 4em tl^^lti ''^ ^ come, tteu- minds «g.i„rt relip"™ S^ '""^' ""^ *"™** the outcome f What h*Hl^ te^huig, what would be influencing them for «^ u ^^ °*" «'«°' i"«te.d f By 4uiweU. *°°^ "''»••"•'« "benefit to NaoM H« band, trembled a. h, continued to thmm „p^ 'li^^ tM « ff THE CEASELESS THBOB 67 tte strings. How could he turn against the Chnrcht He thought of his parents, and remembered what noble lives they had led, and the peace and comfort they had received through that very Church which he was now on toe verge of opposing. Then his mind flashed to BeryL Beryl I What a vision rose before him. How could he deny toe Church of which she was such a devoted mem- bert What did aU the sham and pretence amount to in comparison wito her! A Church which could produce such characters as his parents and Beryl, how could he fight against it r By tois time toe Indians were becoming restless. TEey were talking among themselves, and although Martin could not understand what they were saying, it was not hard for him to detect a distinct note of anger This brought him to himself, and put an end to his indecision. He thought of the Bishop's words, and a scornful laudi broke from his lips, as he rose from the stool on which he had been sitting, and laid toe violin upon the table. iWhat a fool he had been, he told himself, for having ^vered even for an instant. Why should be teach toese natives toe hymns of toe Church! If he began now toere would be no end. They would come every day. demanding more. No, it should not be. It was far bet^ ter not to begin, no matter how angry toe Indiana might be. When toe natives understood that toe white man would not play for them, and toat the instructions for toe day were ended, toey departed surly and dejected. But Martm did not care what toey said or toought. He had made up his mind to oppose the Church, and he was not to be turned aside any more. Twice, at least, during I I .b^. ■'^ ^ he^ contentedly '.^ J^ •"'Ji^ "f" "^ir » C^. ^'' "^*' »"•' y«n know. *^ « much aSZ C IST"* I'"" '« "^^ •«»dafte, , p,^ «r about hep, little one J" h. Cause I like her t »i.- l W P"tty ahe murt ^.. *^ «•»»' '« » n,„d,. ^ ::^i?^''^:'^^r--'-^«oo.... J^'^Su-^^re^-.w." A woman / " \rii««r^ "* * woman. " ^Je., Nance, just in pW .. ""*^ "7 own mammay" THE CEASELBSS THBOB BW tr- ie u Martin itarted at this unexpected question. Apictnra rose before him of the white face of a dead woman, lying in the Indian lodge on the bank of the great river beyond the mountains. How could he answer the child f "I never knew your dear mamma, little one,*' he at length replied. "I never talked to her. But I know Beryl, and have heard her sing.'' "Does she love little girlsf " "Yes. She loves everything that is good and bean- tifuL" "Does she lovo you, daddy f" "I— I am not sure," Martin stammered, while a flush came into his face. "I am not beautiful, neither am I good." "Yes, you are," and Nance twined her little armi around his neck. "You are so beautiful and good that anybody would love you. I do, anyway." Martin could say no more. A lump rose in his throat, and a strange feeling took possession of him The sim- plicity and innocent prattle of this child were unnerving him. He told her that it was getting late, and that she must go to bed. As he bent over her and gave her the nsual good-night kiss she looked up earnestly into hia face. "When I am a big woman," she said, "I want to be just like BeryL Do you think I will, daddy t ' ' "I trust so," was the quiet reply. "But go to sleep now, and well talk about it to-morrow." i CHAPTEB Vm 'BE DISCOVBBT l'^«««« a coward and 'L^*'?^'?^*- He caUed Bat he weU knew ttat^^ Jf •■* ^""^ "^ """y- witch and Blip away witt tJ!„ '<»• 1^ to be on the « necess^^. C^oT^ZlT'^^^r.^ "«?* monaiy would not be lilelv tl ■!T ^ ' ''"' *""« "^ • ye«. if he came ^ ^'^ZT^^T't *■"» <""• *«» Chri8ti««, he could rT;™^*"' "^ *^« ^""""^ became •«et another cabk, ^^? Ll?; ^J^ ^^-^ """y. eontaet with the naut^ ''™~" »« '"""Ir from ^ By mean? of tL ^o tSStLveTr" "' "^ ""^ from the take, and eiXl *fc? ^ ** """• '««^« He Ud spoke; to tS "L^* h"^"" '^^f? ^^<^ the Indian knew ve^tut^" rf ' f "^'^^ '^'"""J- '»» •0 he was informed The Ei~,T ' ^^ "' "^-y- the lake, flowed on a^^^^Zi^T'^ "^ ^^•^ "ver caUed by the i'S.e^lL'T " »» * "^ty ^ter careful consideration. iLun determined t. hI THE DISCOVBBT 71 fashion i canoe out of one of the trees standing near the ■hore of the lake. He would need the craft, so he told himself, for fishing purposes, and it would be pleasant to take Nance out upon the water on many an enjoyable trip. As the days were now lengthening, and the spirit of jq[>ring was breathing over the land, it was possible to work out of doors in comfort. Martin had met with much success in trapping during the winter, and had sent numerous fine skins with the Indians when they had again crossed the mountains to the trading post. In addition to more provisions he had been able to obtain a good new axe, which was a great improvement upon the poor one belonging to the natives. He could now do much 'better work in less time with the aze the trader had sent to him from the post. Instructed by Taku, Martin chose a large tree which would suit his purpose. It was a tedious task, and weeks glided speedily by as he hewed the tree into the desired shape, and dug out the interior. As the work progressed Taku was always on hand, and sometimes he would bring his own aze and hew away for hours. He was very particular about the thickness of the shell, ani would often pause and feel the sides to be sure that the 7 were not too thick or too thin. A*-, length the day arrived when the lazes were laid aside. The canoe was then filled with water, and a fire built all around it, far enough away so as to heat but not to scorch the wood. Stones were made red hot and placed into the craft, and these soon brought the water to the boiling point. This was kept up for a whole day, thus making the wood of the canoe pliable and capable \ I "nooth and flat the «»^ ^^ ""'•'' *»»d >»"» ,^. Nance f.^: Ji^Cr a""""* *^"--' "^ During the whole of thia time Niin«A ^^.^^ i ,^ MartiiL ShA «io^^ , ^aiice stayed close by £w:ttZtV::^-^Lrj::r3 t^p^ Iff: -^ ~"l^ "-"^ ^Uo^^eZ I _ oisappear. Bat one morning when they woke tZ ^ht Th '"'J''.*^ h.^ aU run out^^ t lugnt Then Martin and Talm io«« i. j ^'^"*» *"« o^n2^^tS;:?^-th-:ir"'^ -^ - --^^ , mt n«ht N««e eonM talk of nothing bnt the oanoe ■What shall we call it, Nancef" Martin aaked. "TTe :bo^c::::er'^^'^'' '"*''' "'"^- "^-'^that ! Almort ereiy day after thi. Martin took Nance ont if >l 1 )) ^ THE DISCOVBBT 73 upon the water. The lUiuig wa. good, ind many were ttie fine salmon they bron^t to land. But when not fldung Martin would paddle slowly over the hUce far away from aie cabin. Often the water was perfectly cahn Me a huge mirror, reflecting the trees and rodbi ^J^^ ?*''*' "? ""'^ •* *^" «^* ^^y «lo«nous moke. women, and children. Here there was abundance for all in for^t and in stream. Martin thought of aU this as he paddled slowly over the lake. They were happy hours for him. Nance was near and often he would look upon her with love and pride. Her chief enjoyment consisted in trailing one Uttle hand through the water by the side of the canoe. Often her joyous laugh would ring out over the silent reaches, and then she would listm en- tranced to its echo far away in the distance. One bright afternoon Martin turned the prow of his canoe up the Quaska Biver. Hitherto he had not pad- dled up this stream but had been content to spend his tune upon the lake. For some distance as he advanced the thores were lined with fir and jack-pines ri^t to tue waters edge. At length he came to a large wild meadoW where the stream sulked along, and paddling was much easier. Beyond this the trees were smaU and stragglinir ■howing evidence of fires which had devasUted the limd ( ■ 74 IP ANT MAN SIN The water here was shallow, and at times the canoe grated upon the gravel. Ere long he reached the month of a small stream flowing into the Quaska. Here he ran the craft ashore, and making it fast to a tree he took Nance hy the hand, and walked slowly np the creek. It was a quiet sun-lit place, where cottonwood trees and jack-pines lined the sloping hills. An Indian titul led along the bank, and this they foUowed for some di*. tance. Coming at last to a fair-sised tree, a patriarch among its fellows, they paused. "We'll have something to eat now,*' Martin remarked, as he seated himself upon the ground beneath the shade of the outspreading branches. ^ *'0h, this is nicel" Nance sighed, as she took her place ist his feet, and watched him unfold the parcel which contained their food. "Wouldn't it be nice to stay here 411 the timet" "Not at nij^t, Nance," and Martin laughed. "It would be cold then, and there might be bears around." "Would there?" and the child drew closer to her guardian. "Willthey come here now, do you think!" "Don't be afraid," was the reassuring reply. "They'll not trouble us in the day-time." Their repast was soon over, and then Martin filled and lighted his pipe and leaned back against the old tree. Nance played close to the water, and made little mounds out of tile black sand along the shore. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees, and the hot sun slanting down through the forest caused the water to gleam like bur- nished silver. Birds flitted here and there, while squir- rels chased one another along the ground, and ran chat- tering up among the boughs overhead. Hi THE DISCOVBBT 75 Mirtin'i ejret were fixed upon Nance, Imt hif thon^ts were far awaj. Such a scene of peace and quietness ^ways brought Beryl to his mind. He recaUed one such afternoon when they had wandered among the trecL fields, ^d flowers. Her bright, happy face rose before Mm. He remembered her words as they sat under a large tree to rest. "I often wonder," she had said, "why such happiness is mine. It -i'^iitn almost too good to be true, and I fear lest aom.i.-ug m— happen to spoU it alL'' How Uttle did nhe tiK.i kxynv tt.i in lest than a year her fairy casUe uo ii,! b.- daUeiv . and aU her fond hopes destroyed. '^niu'B ■au<1i enched hard as all this came to I ju no V. 'j . .- ^brupUy from his reclining positioL, and no hI o the bank of the stream. "What are you doing, Nance f"^. ^ked, Eot knowing what else to say. "Oh, just digging in the sand, and making houses," was the reply. ' * Come and help me, daddy. ' ' In an instant Martin was by her side, helping her to ■hape queer little mounds with the sand which was so fine and bhick. Presently he noticed Kttle golden specks, which gleamed whenever a ray of sunshine touched them. He examined them closely, and found that where the sand had not been disturbed a thin layer of such specks was lying upon the surface. Instinctively he knew that it was gold, which had been washed down with the water and deposited along the shore. Much interested, he ex- amined the sand for several rods up and down the stream, and everywhere he found signs of gold. He next turned his attention to the gravel lying be- neath the water. Scooping up a quantity of this with 76 IF ANT MAN SIN ».'l :! 1*1 hii liaiidt he found golden specks all through it at well M a number of nnall nuggets each about the siae of rioe. This discovery caused his heart to beat n^idly, and ht ■at down upon the bank in order to think. Goldt Had hemadearichdisooveiyf The earth must be full of it, and perhaps beneath his feet the treasure was lying hidden. The glorious day, and the glamour of his sur- roundings appealed to him no longer. The idea of the great riches so near possessed his mind. The whole val- ley stretching between the high walls was his. It waa full of gold beyond measure. Ere long another feeling came upon him. Suppose ht did get gold what should he do with it? Gold was use- ful only out in the world of civilisation. But here it was of no more value than ♦he common stones lying in the river's bed. The Indians knew nothing about it To them the skins of the animals roaming iu the forest ^ere more precious than heaps of the gleaming ore. He weU knew that if his disco\ ry became known b^nd the mountains a flood of miners would pour into the region, and instead of peace and quietness there wt>uld be the wild commotion of a mining town. No, tuoh « thing should not occur. It should be kept a secret Ht would say nothing of his find to the Indians. In faet if they did learn of it they would not give themselves the trouble of visiting the place, he was sure of that • When at length he unfastened the canoe, and started with Nance down to the lake, his mind was so full of the discovery he had made that he paid little or no heed to the prattle of the child. CHAPTEB EC TBM Qoumjx Lun TUr AETXN slept but UtOe that night, is his mind was i.'A mnch disturbed. There were many things to think about since his discovery of the previous day. He did not feel quite sure of himself now. He had imag- ined that he had severed all connection with the outside world and that never again could he endure the trammela of conventional social life. He was so satisfied with the quiet ways of the wilderness that the awakening came asi a severe shock. It was the gold which had made th» change. He could not enjoy it here, but out there wliat magic it would work. What doors hitherto closed would instantly be opened, and great would be his influence. iWhat a surprise it would be to the Church which had cast him off, he mused, when he arose from seclusion and oblivion, and starfled the world with his vast wealth. A grim smile of contempt curled his lips as he pictured hew the church dignitaries, and others, would condone his past sin, and fawn upon him because of hia money. How gratifying it would be to hear the very men who had condemned him most severely lift up their voices in praise of his contributions to the building of churches or charitable institutions. And would not the newspapers, which had devoted big headlines to his fall. 7T 78 IF ANT MAN SIN people. H. would take herTC ™^ I T^ "^ give Te»t to hi. f eeliBge.'^.nd tte^'^^ ^f'^ ^ «. wm, upon his violin. How he dM pW iZt, • t"nmph«,t jubilant note in his muric Th^jr^i were sun-rised «.d startled to he^ tte' st^^^'T panded, and hig body wae drawn nnwJj 7 ^' His eyes, which looked ^i^T^i. ^^^ •"^ ^'^^^ THE GOLDEN LURE 79 with some strange spirit, or why should he look and aet in such a peculiar manner f I ^®' ?°*® *"°® ^^"^ P^y®^ *^' ^^ natives had left, and only ceased when Nance came out of the house. She looked at him with astonishment in her eyes, and then ran to him for her customary morning kiss. Mar- ton smiled as he laid aside the instrument, and turned his attention to the chOd. He felt much relieved, and iriewed the whole situation in a calmer and more reason- •We light. His dreams of wealth had been too fanciful •0 he told himself. Perhaps he would not find the gold M easily as he had imagined. There might not be any in the vaUey, and what he had seen might have been washed from some source which he could not discover. Martin was now anxious to hurry back up the river •8 soon *is possible to make a careful examination of the ground. In an Indian lodge he had once seen a shovel and a smaU pick. They had been found years before, so He was informed, on a creek many miles away. Nearby were lying the skeletons of two men, prospectors no 1^ ' I?° ^*** miserably periahed in their search for told. The natives regarded the pick and shovel with considerable interest, and had always taken good care of them. Provided with these, his axe, and his frying- pan, which would serve him in the stead of the pros- pectoris regular gold-pan, Martin at length reached the spot where he had made the discovery the day before. ' He knew something about mining operations on a small scale, as he had not only read much about it in days past, but in his journey northward he had watched prospectors at work on the bars of the river and along 80 IF ANY MAN SIN the water's edoA Ti.4- i-« . , ""•viee to wTnow ^"^^ '« of eomMerrtto «o»o gold I^t^thTb^"' r '''^'«<' t^