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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of If Any Man Sin, by H. A. Cody
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: If Any Man Sin
+
+Author: H. A. Cody
+
+Release Date: June 10, 2011 [EBook #36368]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IF ANY MAN SIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              IF ANY MAN SIN
+
+                              BY H. A. CODY
+
+AUTHOR OF THE CHIEF OF THE RANGES, THE LONG PATROL, UNDER SEALED ORDERS,
+THE FRONTIERSMAN, Etc.
+
+
+    GROSSET & DUNLAP
+    PUBLISHERS   NEW YORK
+
+    Copyright, 1915,
+    BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+
+    Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+        TO MY WIFE
+       THIS BOOK IS
+    LOVINGLY DEDICATED
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. CHORDS OF MEMORY
+
+II. THE VERGE OF TREMBLING
+
+III. A WILDERNESS WAIF
+
+IV. BY THE MIRRORING LAKE
+
+V. A CABIN FOR TWO
+
+VI. 'TIS HARD TO FORGET
+
+VII. THE CEASELESS THROB
+
+VIII. THE DISCOVERY
+
+IX. THE GOLDEN LURE
+
+X. THE AWAKENING
+
+XI. UNFOLDING
+
+XII. THE EDGE OF EVENTS
+
+XIII. THE LAP OF TO-MORROW
+
+XIV. THE SUPPLANTER
+
+XV. SUSPICION
+
+XVI. TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY
+
+XVII. HEART THRUSTS
+
+XVIII. THE ROYAL BOUNTY
+
+XIX. BEGINNINGS
+
+XX. UNDER COVER OF NIGHT
+
+XXI. THE WAY OF A WOMAN
+
+XXII. HEART SEARCHINGS
+
+XXIII. THE MEETING
+
+XXIV. WITHIN THE LITTLE ROOM
+
+XXV. THE RIVER FLOWS BETWEEN
+
+XXVI. THE FACE AT THE DOOR
+
+XXVII. THE INNER IMPULSE
+
+XXVIII. THE KEEPSAKE
+
+XXIX. ATONEMENT
+
+XXX. REVELATION
+
+XXXI. "THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOWS"
+
+XXXII. REFINED GOLD
+
+
+
+
+IF ANY MAN SIN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+CHORDS OF MEMORY
+
+
+It was Sunday night and the great city was hushed in silence. A thick
+mist hung over streets and houses through which numerous lights
+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 standing alone within the shadow
+of the church started 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 hurrying 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 time 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 concealment and paced rapidly up and
+down outside the church, with his 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 large 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 almost 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 hymn was familiar to him, for he had often
+sung it in days gone by. The congregation, too, was singing, 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 tenderness 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 her intently. Then when the hymn was finished, and
+ere the congregation dispersed, the stranger, having cast one more
+longing look upon the woman with the sweet voice, slipped noiselessly
+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 big door was thrown wide open, and
+as the men and women passed by he scrutinised them as closely as
+possible. He was watching for one person alone, and presently he saw her
+walking by herself. When she had gone a short distance he followed
+after, and never once let her out of his sight until 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, and, 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 more before the house into which the
+woman had entered. Here he remained until the clock of a nearby church
+struck the hour of eleven. Then, drawing himself together, the man
+hurried away with rapid steps. Reaching a house on a side street, he
+opened a door with a latch-key, and passed within. Up three flights of
+stairs he moved till he came to a little 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
+corner was a narrow cot. At its foot stood a wash-stand, over which hung
+a small 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 which the
+man sat on the one rickety chair the room contained and warmed his
+numbed hands.
+
+For over half an hour he remained thus, gazing down intently into the
+fire. But hotter than the coals before him seemed the eyes which burned
+in his head. At last he aroused from his reverie and, crossing the room,
+opened a small grip and brought forth a carefully-folded newspaper
+clipping. This he unwrapped, spread it out upon the table, and drawing
+up his chair sat down. He fixed his eyes upon an article with the big
+headline, "Deposed by His Bishop." A deep flush mantled his cheeks and
+brow as he read for more than the thousandth 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 with a red-hot iron. But the printed
+words seemed to fascinate him. The tale was all there in black and
+white, and the newspaper had made the most of it.
+
+But there were things which were not recorded in cold type, and ere long
+his eyes drifted from the printed page far off into space. He beheld
+again the white-haired bishop sitting in his library, and heard his
+voice tremble as he uttered the words which deposed him forever from the
+Ministry. Then he recalled his own hot invectives hurled against the
+Church, and the vow that he would banish it and its teaching entirely
+from his heart and mind, and free himself from its influence. He
+remembered his scornful laugh when the bishop told him that such a thing
+was impossible. "Martin Rutland," he had said in an impressive voice,
+"you know not what you are saying. Do you imagine that you can cut
+yourself off from the influence of the Church of your childhood? I tell
+you that you are mistaken, for such a thing is utterly impossible. The
+Church and her teaching 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
+suspect him 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, buffeted
+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 like 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 greater,
+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 there? He
+could not separate the two. The Church and Beryl were always connected.
+He recalled the last time he had seen her in his old parish. It was the
+evening of the day he had said good-bye to his parents. He wished to see
+her, but upon approaching her home his courage had failed him. How could
+he look into her face with the great stain upon him? Her large lustrous
+eyes would have pierced his very soul. She believed him to be true,
+noble, and upright. But how little was she aware as she sat at the piano
+that night, practising the Christmas music, that Rutland, to whom she
+had given her heart and hand, was watching her longingly through the
+window. He had stood there until she ceased her playing. Then she had
+come to the window and looked out upon the world of snow and ice. He
+remembered how he had shrunk back fearful lest she should see him. For
+some time did she stand there, and Rutland knew that of him she was
+thinking. He had waited until the house was in darkness, and then crept
+back to his own lodging place.
+
+How every incident of that night was burnt upon his brain! He had left
+the parish like a coward, and when several days later the startling news
+of his fall and deposition reached Glendale he was swallowed up in the
+great world of seething humanity. He knew nothing of the grief and agony
+of his parents, nor the overwhelming blow which for a time almost
+prostrated Beryl Heathcote. But he read the accounts of his degradation
+in the papers, and heard men by his side discuss the affair in a light
+careless manner. How he had recoiled as he listened to their rough
+remarks, and their apparent delight that another clergyman had gone
+astray. In a few weeks the story of wrong was forgotten, save by those
+whose hearts had been most sorely stricken.
+
+Rutland had wandered far and wide, staying only long enough in any one
+place to earn enough money to supply his scanty needs. He would prove
+the bishop's words to be false. He would get away from the influence of
+the Church and all religious teaching. He attended no place of worship
+during the years of his wanderings, and though living in a country of
+churches and Church activities he believed that he had so steeled his
+heart and mind that never again could they exert any influence over him.
+He lived entirely for himself, and to the few people he occasionally met
+he was a mystery.
+
+But Rutland had found that he could as easily walk through a
+flower-garden and not touch the flowers nor inhale their fragrance as he
+could pass through the world and not be affected by the influence of the
+Christian religion. He upbraided himself for his weakness in entering
+that church. That it should never happen again he was determined. He
+must get away far off into the wilderness. He would go where the
+influence of the Church was unknown, and where it was not even a name.
+He would penetrate regions never before trodden by the feet of white
+man, and there at last he would find the rest and peace he desired. To
+stay longer in this city so near to Beryl he could not. The thought of
+her, however, brought a degree of calmness to his troubled mind. He had
+ever associated her with peace. In days gone by her mere presence was
+refreshing. Now she was near, but he must not go to her, neither must
+she ever know how close he had been to her this night. When she thought
+of him, he mused, it must be with the deepest loathing. What a terrible
+change the years had brought about! There was a time when he could
+hasten to her side, and rejoice in her love. How she would listen to him
+as he played upon the violin, and often she would accompany him upon the
+piano. All that was changed now. They were sundered more widely than by
+the broadest ocean.
+
+At length he paused before the table and picked up the violin, one of
+the few cherished things he had carried with him. It alone had been his
+comforting companion in his wretched wandering life. And so to-night as
+he seated himself upon the cranky chair, and drew the bow across the
+strings, the old mystic spell swept over his soul. He was a child once
+more, care-free and happy, playing around his home with the flowers,
+birds, bees, and butterflies as his companions. He passed into his first
+and only parish. He saw the faces of those to whom he ministered turned
+up to him, their chosen leader. But brightest and most-outstanding of
+all was the face of Beryl as she watched him from her seat by the little
+church organ.
+
+When Rutland ceased the fire was out in the grate, and a clock in a
+nearby steeple was striking the hour of two. A shiver passed through his
+body as he rose and laid his violin tenderly upon the table. Hastily
+blowing out the light, he threw himself upon the narrow cot, and drew
+over him the two thin blankets. At length the outcast slept, and for a
+time the fierce agony of heart and mind troubled him no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE VERGE OF TREMBLING
+
+
+When the news of Martin Rutland's ignominy reached Beryl 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 few days, however, she had to realise that it was only too
+true, and that the man in whom she had trusted so implicitly was an
+outcast not only from society but from the Church as well. She tried to
+bear up and face the storm which raged so furiously 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 complaint passed her lips. At first she
+cherished the feeble hope that Martin would either return or write to
+her, that he would prove himself 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 shadow of her former
+happy buoyant self. "Oh, if I had only died!" she moaned. "What a relief
+it would have been. How can I face life again with this terrible weight
+upon my heart!"
+
+When she was stronger she became determined to leave Glendale, the
+Gethsemane of her young life, and to go where she would no longer hear
+the story of shame, and where curious eyes would not follow her whenever
+she moved abroad.
+
+Her only sister lived in a western city and thither she made her way.
+What a relief it was to her burdened heart to have the comfort of her
+sister's love. Here she could rest and endeavour to gather up as far as
+possible the tangled and broken threads of her life.
+
+This, however, she found to be most difficult, and months passed before
+she was able to compose her mind and think of the future. She felt that
+she should be doing something, and thus not depend upon others. To
+return to her old home to the love and attention which would be hers
+there she could not. She must remain away from the scene of her great
+sorrow.
+
+In work, Beryl believed, she could in a measure forget herself. But what
+work could she do? Music was the only thing in which she had been
+thoroughly trained. But the idea of turning to it now, and taking in
+pupils, was most repugnant. Not since that night when she had played in
+her old home, when Martin Rutland was watching longingly through the
+window, had she touched the keys of any instrument. Neither had she sung
+a single note. Music had passed out of her life, and the clear sweet
+voice which had thrilled the hearts of so many was stilled.
+
+At length, after discussing the matter with her sister, Beryl decided to
+become a nurse. Not that she cared at all for the profession, but it
+was the only thing that seemed to offer, and she must keep her mind and
+hands employed if she were to forget the past. That she must forget she
+was determined, and she believed that in time the deep wound her heart
+had received would be at least partly healed.
+
+During the months of her inactivity she had brooded much over what had
+taken place in her life. Many were the battles she had fought, silent
+and alone. At times a bitterness, so foreign to her loving nature,
+possessed her. Then it was that her faith in God and man weakened. Was
+there a Father in heaven who cared? she would ask herself over and over
+again. If so, why had He allowed her bright young life to be so clouded
+and blighted? Then she would think of Martin and how much he had meant
+to her. Though she had always defended him, or remained silent when
+others had condemned, nevertheless in her own heart the thought of what
+he had done rankled sore. But her love was too strong for such feelings
+to last for any length of time, and so she was always able to come forth
+unscathed from the fierce struggles.
+
+Beryl threw herself with much energy into the work of her new
+profession. She made rapid progress, and all who came into contact with
+her were charmed by her gentleness of manner, and the sweetness of her
+disposition. To the patients, especially, she was an angel of light. No
+voice was as comforting, and no hand as soothing as hers, and they would
+always watch eagerly for the nurse who had the sunny smile of cheer.
+Though her own heart might be heavy, she revealed nothing of her sorrow
+to the world, but radiated sunshine wherever she went.
+
+But Beryl found it a severe strain to be always presenting to the world
+a bright face, and by the time her course of training was almost over
+she felt that it was impossible for her to do so much longer. Every day
+it was necessary for her to force herself to her duties, and to assume
+that lightness of heart which she did not feel. She had little to give
+her that zest for her work which would make each task a joy. Must she go
+through life, lacking the needful inspiration? she often asked herself.
+She knew the difference between work done in the spirit of duty and
+love. One was mechanical, a mere tread-mill round; the other was of the
+heart.
+
+She was thinking of these things one Sunday night during service in the
+church where she generally attended, and which was the nearest to her
+sister's home. As a rule she was a most devoted and attentive
+worshipper. But to-night her thoughts wandered. They would go back to
+Glendale, and to that little church, where for years she had been
+organist. Again she saw Martin conducting the service just as he used to
+do before his fall.
+
+Somehow it seemed to Beryl that he was near her this night. Once she
+glanced partly around as if expecting to see him in the church. She
+could not account for the idea, as she never had such a feeling before.
+With an effort she checked her wandering thoughts, and fixed them upon
+what the clergyman in the pulpit was saying. At once her interest became
+aroused, and she followed him with the deepest attention. He was
+speaking about Service, and referred to the noble work nurses were doing
+both at home and in the mission field. He told also about the Red Cross
+Society, and paid a tribute to Florence Nightingale. He then quoted one
+verse of Longfellow's "Santa Filomena":
+
+    "A lady with a lamp shall stand
+    In the great history 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. Almost 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 impulse 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 thrilled 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
+followed her, and then paced the street for hours after the door had
+closed behind her.
+
+When alone with her sister that night, Beryl related her experience in
+the church and the new purpose which had come into her life. They were
+seated before an open fire, and the light illumined their fair faces
+with a soft glow.
+
+"Yes," Beryl told her, "I have at last made up my mind. I am going to
+offer for the mission field. I care not to what place I am sent so long
+as it is somewhere."
+
+"You will need training, perhaps, in that special work," her sister
+replied.
+
+"I know it, Lois. But you see, when I have graduated I shall take a
+course in preparatory mission work. I understand there is such a school
+in this city connected with our Church. I shall then know where I shall
+be sent."
+
+"It will be a grand work, Beryl," and Lois Hardinge laid her hand
+lovingly upon that of her sister's. "It will take you out of yourself,
+and make you forget the past."
+
+"It can never make me forget," and Beryl gazed thoughtfully into the
+fire as she spoke. "I can never forget him, and I don't want to now. No
+matter what people say, I cannot believe that he is a bad man, even
+though he has fallen and is an outcast from the Church. Oh, Lois, do you
+know I had the feeling to-night that he was near me during service. It
+was only a fancy, of course, but it seemed so real. Since then I have
+the idea that somewhere, sometime, I shall meet him, that we shall
+understand each other, and that all will be well."
+
+"God grant it so, dear," her sister fervently replied. "If it will
+comfort you in your work hold fast to that hope."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A WILDERNESS WAIF
+
+
+The great Mackenzie River flowed with a strong and steady sweep on its
+way to the Arctic Sea. Two boats floated upon its surface, bearing
+northward, manned for the most part by half-breeds and Indians.
+Employees were they in the service of the notable Fur Trading Company,
+which for long years had ruled this wilderness land. For weeks these men
+had been pushing their way along this stream, contending with rocks,
+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 rejoiced 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 consider 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 gather
+eagerly around him. Music has charms when produced by a master, and such
+was Rutland. But never does it seem so entrancing as out in the open on
+a calm evening beneath the branches of the tall, over-shadowing trees.
+There is a mystic plaintiveness about the sound of a violin on such an
+occasion. Rutland's music was generally in a minor key. It expressed his
+inmost feelings, and often as he played the naturally superstitious
+half-breed would glance apprehensively among the shadowy trees. It awed
+them by its strange weirdness like wailing spirits, lost, wandering, and
+seeking vainly for refuge and peace. At other times Rutland would play
+bright airs and snatches of old songs, which delighted the hearts of his
+companions and banished their feeling of fear.
+
+Each day of progress brought to Rutland a greater feeling of exultation.
+At last he was free from all influence of the Church which had cast him
+out. Here in this barren region he could live like the natives, free
+from care. He would seek some far-off band, and become one of them. He
+had read much about the Indians, and their picturesque life had always
+appealed to him most strongly. He would watch his opportunity, steal
+away, and live and die in their midst, more of an outcast than they.
+
+At times he thought about the Church to which he had once belonged, and
+a contemptuous sneer always curled his lips when he thought of it. Lying
+among the trees, he often wondered how he had ever endured the thraldom
+of bygone days. He remembered how particular he had been about the
+observance of the slightest rule. In the performance of his duties he
+had followed the rubrics of the Prayer Book with the most punctilious
+care. The slightest deviation from the rules laid down filled him with
+much concern. Special days had been kept with great regularity, and the
+command of his bishop was as his conscience. But now all was changed.
+The solemn vows he had taken did not trouble him in the least, and the
+Church was to him merely a name. Neither did the sin which had driven
+him forth disturb him. The spirit of rebellion had reigned in his heart
+during all the years of his wandering life. He believed that he had been
+unjustly treated. He did not blame himself, but others. He thought of
+his comrades in the Ministry, and a feeling of pity and superiority came
+into his heart. He pictured them moving in their narrow, petty circle as
+of old, and he asked himself what did it all amount to anyway. The spell
+of the wilderness was now upon him, and he longed for the voyage to end.
+He would abandon the boat when it had reached its most northerly
+destination. Then, when his companions had started back, he would plunge
+into regions beyond and become lost forever to the world of
+civilization.
+
+One evening after a hard day's work they came to a small Indian
+encampment just below a dangerous rapid. They had much difficulty in
+overcoming this turbulent piece of water, and very glad were they to
+rest after their arduous exertions. They found the Indians in a state of
+great excitement, the cause of which was soon apparent. That very day a
+young fur-trader and his wife had been drowned in an attempt to shoot
+the rapid in a canoe. Their little child, a girl of four years, had been
+rescued by the natives, and taken to their encampment. The woman's body
+was recovered, but of the man no trace could be found.
+
+Rutland, with several of his companions, entered the lodge where the
+body of the unfortunate woman was lying. As he drew back the deer-skin
+robe which had been placed over her still form, he was surprised at the
+young and beautiful face which was presented to view. He stood there for
+some time after the rest of the men had taken a hurried look and
+departed. He could not get the face of the dead woman out of his mind,
+and he awoke in the deep of the night thinking that she was standing by
+his side. In his dream he beheld her, and she was pointing with her
+finger to something lying at his feet, which he saw to be a little
+child.
+
+The Indian women had taken good care of the rescued child, and she awoke
+from a sound sleep none the worse for her cold plunge into the river the
+day before. Opening her eyes, she expected to see the loved faces of her
+parents looking down fondly upon her. Her bright, happy expression
+changed to one of terror when she saw instead the dusky native women
+bending over her. Wildly she called for her mother, but alas! for the
+first time in her young life her mother did not respond with loving
+words, nor hurry to her side.
+
+Rutland, hearing the cry of terror, hastened to the lodge and entered.
+Why he did so he could not tell. He did not stop to analyse his
+feelings, but acted merely upon the impulse of the moment. It was
+sufficient for him to know that the little one was in distress and
+needed assistance. A large Indian woman was holding the child in her
+arms when Rutland appeared. Several squaws were gathered around trying
+to soothe her. But the more they talked in the native tongue the more
+terrified the child became. Rutland stood for an instant just within the
+entrance of the lodge. He saw the little girl, her face distorted with
+fear, struggling madly to free herself, and pleading vainly for her
+mother. Not for years had Rutland's heart been so stirred. He stepped
+quickly forward and reached out his hands to the child. The latter saw
+him and, intuitively realising that here was one who could be trusted,
+endeavoured to go to him, while a sob of relief escaped her lips.
+Rutland caught her in his arms, folded her to his breast, and began to
+calm her with words of comfort.
+
+"Hush, hush, little one," he soothed, as he stroked her silken hair.
+"You are safe with me, so don't cry any more."
+
+"Mamma, mamma. I want my mamma," wailed the child.
+
+Rutland knew not how to reply. He was little accustomed to the ways of
+children, so all he could do was to hold her close to his breast and
+tell her that she was safe. Ere long his words had the desired effect,
+and soon she remained quietly in his arms looking up into his face with
+big, wondering eyes. Passing forth from the lodge, Rutland sat down upon
+the trunk of a fallen tree just outside the door. He placed the child
+upon his knee, and began to talk to her. He pointed out to her a
+squirrel sitting upon the branch of a jack-pine not far off. The child's
+eyes grew bright, her face beamed with pleasure, and she clapped her
+hands with delight. In a few moments they were the firmest of friends,
+and soon they started off in search of the chattering squirrel. It was a
+balmy morning, with not a ripple upon the surface of the river. A new
+feeling of peace stole into Rutland's heart as he walked by the side of
+the child with her soft hand in his. She was a beautiful little maid,
+with wavy brown hair, rosy cheeks, and clear, dark eyes. Her plaid dress
+was neatly made, and her shoes were of a light-tan colour. At her throat
+was a small silver clasp-pin, with the one word "Nance" engraven upon
+it, which Rutland believed must be her name.
+
+After they had strolled about for a while they returned to the lodge,
+where the Indian women were preparing breakfast.
+
+"You stay here, little one," Rutland said. "These women will give you
+something to eat. I must go away now, but I shall come back soon."
+
+"No, no," the child cried, clinging close to him. "I don't want to stay.
+I want my mamma. Take me to my mamma. Where is my mamma?"
+
+"She can't come to you now," Rutland replied. "But I promise you that I
+shall come back soon."
+
+After much persuasion the child was induced to remain, but she watched
+her protector anxiously, with tears in her eyes, as he left her.
+
+Rutland hurried at once toward the forest along an Indian trail, which
+led to a hill not far from the river. Here was a native burying ground
+where a new grave had been dug that morning. His companions were already
+assembled, and by the time Rutland arrived they had the body of the
+young woman lowered into the ground. This task was performed in deep
+silence, for the presence of death stilled the tongues of these usually
+garrulous men. No coffin had they in which to place the body. Instead, a
+grey blanket was used as a shroud, and this had been carefully wrapped
+around the stiffened form.
+
+As Rutland stood by the grave and looked down upon all that remained of
+Nance's mother he thought of the dream which had come to him in the
+night, and he saw again the woman pointing silently to the child at his
+feet. Between him and the men standing by his side there was a great
+gulf fixed. They were rude and unlettered, while he was an educated man,
+capable of seeing things not always revealed to others. They saw only
+the shrouded form lying in the grave. He saw much more. He beheld a
+little home, which had been rudely shattered by the sudden death of
+husband and wife. He pictured loved ones far away waiting anxiously for
+news from the great northland, and then the sorrow when at last the
+tidings reached them, if ever they did, of the precious toll the
+wilderness had taken. He thought, too, of the little child so terribly
+bereaved, upon whom so much love and care had been bestowed. What would
+become of her? he asked himself.
+
+He was roused from his reverie by the sound of shovels striking hard
+upon gravel. He looked quickly up and saw that the men were making ready
+to fill in the grave. For an instant only he hesitated and then
+straightening himself up he raised his right hand.
+
+"Wait a moment," he commanded. "It is not right that we should lay this
+woman here without one word of prayer. Who will say it?"
+
+At once every hat was doffed, and the men looked at one another.
+
+"You go ahead, pard," said one at length. "You know best what to say."
+
+Yes, Rutland knew very well what to say--the exact words--but why should
+he utter them? He had put everything connected with his Church away from
+him forever. He paused in an effort to think of something else. Twice he
+started, but each time floundered and stopped. He could not back down,
+for the men were watching him. He must say something over the body of
+Nance's mother. At length, pulling himself together, he repeated the
+words he had used so often in other days.
+
+"Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take to
+himself the soul of our dear sister here departed, we therefore commit
+her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
+Here he paused, stooped, and seizing a handful of gravel sprinkled it
+three times upon the body. This done, he continued the prayer to the
+end. Then he stepped back and remained perfectly silent, watching the
+men as they rapidly filled in and rounded up the grave. In fact, he
+stood there until his companions had gone back to the river. Then he
+looked cautiously around to be sure that he was alone. Seeing no one in
+sight, he picked up two sticks lying upon the ground and fastened them
+together into the form of a cross, with a piece of a raw moose-hide
+thong he had in his pocket. This he placed at the head of the newly-made
+grave, thrusting it well down into the loose earth.
+
+Rutland could not account for what he had done. If any one had told him
+when he awoke that morning that he would repeat that prayer and erect
+this rude cross, he would have scoffed at the idea. "I did it all for
+the child's sake," he said to himself, as an excuse for his temporary
+weakness. At once there flashed into his mind the words of the aged
+bishop. "Do you think that you can free yourself from the influence of
+the Church? I tell you that you are mistaken; it is impossible."
+Rutland's hands clenched hard as the memory of the past swept upon him.
+He reached down and laid his hand upon the cross he had just erected. He
+would tear it out and break it into a dozen pieces. But as he touched
+that symbol of redemption his outstretched arm dropped by his side, and
+his head drooped low. Though an outcast, and determined to have nothing
+more to do with his Church, he knew now that its influence was upon him
+still. It was harder than he had imagined to uproot the teaching which
+had been implanted in his heart and mind in early days, and carefully
+nourished throughout the years. But he would succeed. Never again would
+he allow such weakness to possess him. He would prove the bishop's words
+to be false.
+
+When Rutland returned to the encampment he found that his companions
+were almost ready to depart. Nance saw him approaching, and with a cry
+of delight ran to meet him. He caught her in his arms, and his heart
+thrilled with joy at her confidence. Here was the one person in the
+whole world to greet him and look up to him for protection. He carried
+her to where several Indian women were squatting upon the ground.
+
+"You stay here, little one," and he gently untwined her arms from around
+his neck as he spoke. "Be a good girl, and I shall come back to you some
+day."
+
+For a few brief heart beats the child lifted her head, looked
+searchingly into his eyes, and then with a piteous wail of despair clung
+to him closer than ever.
+
+"Don't leave me. Don't leave me," she sobbed. "Take me with you. Take me
+to my papa and mamma. I won't stay here. I won't."
+
+Rutland did not know what to do. He seated himself upon a stump and
+placed Nance on his knee. He tried to reason with her, telling her how
+happy she would be with the Indian women, and how they would care for
+her. But his words were of no avail. The more he talked, the closer she
+clung to him, and begged him not to leave her.
+
+A shout from the river warned Rutland that his companions were ready to
+depart. Quickly rising to his feet, he unloosened the child's arms,
+handed her to an old squaw, and moved rapidly away. At once wild shrieks
+of despair and terror filled the air. He endeavoured not to listen, and
+tried to steel his heart. But it was no use. He stopped and looked back.
+He saw the child where he had left her, her little hands stretched out
+appealingly toward him. The sight was more than he could endure.
+Hesitating no longer, he rushed back, seized her in his arms, bore her
+swiftly to the river, and placed her gently in one of the boats. In a
+few minutes they were speeding northward, and with them went Nance, the
+little waif of the wilderness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BY THE MIRRORING LAKE
+
+
+Of all the sheets of water lying hidden in the great 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 border. Lofty mountain peaks towered
+beyond and reflected their coronals of snow in the lake which they
+embosomed. To the north-east stretched a long wooded valley with
+crouching foot-hills on either side. Down through this opening flowed a
+small river, called by the 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 natives of the locality.
+
+In days long past the Tasko tribe had been a large one. Hundreds of them
+had come regularly to this lake to catch the fine salmon, white, and
+other fish its water contained. At times mighty warriors had gone forth
+to make raids upon neighboring tribes, and once a furious battle had
+taken place among the trees at the mouth of the Quaska. But wars and
+diseases had thinned the tribe until it numbered barely one hundred
+souls, men, women, and children in all. The days of warfare were now
+over, and these natives led a quiet life, subsisting chiefly upon the
+game which the land produced in abundance. The arrival of the white men
+beyond the great mountains of the rising sun gave them a market for
+their furs, which they bartered for clothing, food utensils, and
+trinkets of the world of civilisation.
+
+To all outward appearance theirs was the ideal life as they gathered
+around their lodges one evening when summer was slowly merging into
+fall. Several small fires were sending up wreaths of smoke into the
+pine-scented air. The women were preparing the evening meal; the men
+were lying prone upon the ground, while the children played near the
+shore. It all seemed such a free and easy existence. There was none of
+the mad rush for wealth, no hard grinding at the wheels of industrial
+life in office, factory, or store. The dwelling places were of the
+humblest. All the land for miles around was theirs, with no taxes to
+pay, and no rents continually coming due. Game was plentiful in forest
+and stream, with only a moderate effort needed to procure it. Changing
+fashions were unknown, and with the exception of the clothes obtained
+from the trading post, they used the dressed-skins of wild animals as
+did their ancestors for many generations.
+
+The sun of the long northern summer day was swinging low in the west as
+three men suddenly emerged from the forest, and moved slowly along the
+shore of the lake toward the Indian encampment several hundred yards
+away. They bore heavy packs strapped upon their shoulders, while one
+carried a large bundle in his arms. At length they came to a lodge where
+a middle-aged woman and a girl of seventeen were seated upon the ground
+just before the entrance. As the men approached the women rose quickly
+to their feet, and looked intently upon the man with the burden in his
+arms. His companions uttered a few words in the guttural native tongue,
+and at once the girl stepped forward and relieved the man of the bundle.
+Then a cry of surprise and pleasure came from her lips as she beheld the
+little white face of a sleeping child peeping out from beneath the
+blanket with which it was enfolded.
+
+Martin Rutland had greatly changed in appearance since the morning he
+had caught Nance in his arms and carried her swiftly to the river. His
+hair and beard were long, his face was worn and haggard, while his
+clothes were almost in tatters. When he saw that Nance was in good hands
+he gave a sigh of relief, unstrapped the pack from his back, and sank,
+much exhausted, upon the ground. A conversation at once ensued between
+his two companions and the Indian women. Then, while the girl laid Nance
+upon a bed of furs within the lodge, the other squaw began to broil a
+fish over the hot coals of the fire-place. Rutland was very hungry, and
+never did any food taste as good as the piece of salmon which was soon
+handed to him by the kind-hearted squaw. This fish formed the entire
+meal, but it satisfied his appetite. When he was through he lighted his
+pipe, and stretched himself full length upon the ground.
+
+Though he did not understand the language of these people, the two
+Indian men knew a few words of English. He accordingly learned that
+these women were their wives. The name of the elder was Naheesh, and
+that of the younger Quabee. Rutland was too tired to talk much. It was
+so comfortable lying there, leaning against the butt of a log, watching
+the smoke curling up from his well-blackened pipe. Other Indians had now
+gathered around, and a continual buzz of voices fell upon his ears. He
+surmised that the conversation centered upon himself and the child
+asleep within the lodge. But this did not trouble him in the least. One
+thing alone disturbed his mind. He wondered if he would be forced to
+leave this place as he had to abandon camp after camp during the past
+weeks. He recalled, as he lay there, how hard it had been to find a band
+of Indians uninfluenced by the Church. At first he had imagined that
+such a thing would be very easy. In this, however, he had been mistaken.
+At the trading post, where he and Nance had left the boats, there was a
+mission church. That evening, at the ringing of the little bell, the
+Indians had left whatever they were doing and flocked to service.
+Rutland, knowing that this was no place for him, had left at once,
+carrying Nance in his arms. In company with several natives he reached
+an encampment miles away. Here he believed he could remain. But no, even
+out in the great open he saw the Indians gather together in a little
+group ere they laid themselves down to sleep. He watched them with much
+curiosity, thinking they were about to perform some ancient heathen
+rite. One native, who seemed to be a leader, spoke a few words, and then
+all began to sing. Though he did not understand a word of the language,
+he recognised the tune of an old familiar hymn. He remembered how
+impressively they had sung it, and what fine voices they had. When they
+finished they all knelt down, and the leader prayed. A feeling of
+admiration swept over Rutland as he watched them. Then his own heart
+began to rebuke him for the first time since he left the Ministry. Here
+were these natives, children of the wild, putting him, who had taken
+such solemn vows upon himself, to utter shame. Had they only known the
+life-story of the white man in their midst, what would they have thought
+of the Christian religion? He had looked into their sincere faces, and
+for the first time in years felt humbled. It was impossible for him to
+remain here. How could he, whose life was a failure and a disgrace,
+endure the presence of such trusting people? Their simple faith stabbed
+him to the heart and brought back memories he was striving so hard to
+forget.
+
+He accordingly fled to other encampments, but everywhere 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 in
+a most remarkable manner. He learned, too, that these Indians were not
+the ordinary miserable creatures sometimes seen hanging around stores
+and railway stations. They were the nobility of the land, and having
+once embraced the teaching of the Church, they endeavoured to put their
+belief into practice. More than once the words of his bishop uttered ten
+years ago came to his mind, and he began to realise that they were truer
+than he had imagined.
+
+Thus he fled from camp to camp, and almost despaired of ever reaching a
+band of Indians untouched by the Christian religion. Hearing at length
+of the far-off Tasko tribe, he set his face toward Lake Klutana with two
+friendly natives, who were bound thither. The journey was a hard one,
+for Nance had to be carried every step of the way. Since leaving the
+boats at the great river he had at times chided himself for his
+foolishness in bringing the child with him. Why had he not left her at
+the mission station where she would have been well cared for? He thought
+of this by day as he struggled over the cruel trail with the little one
+in his arms, and he upbraided himself at night when she awoke and cried
+piteously for her father and mother. But as a rule he was glad that he
+had her with him. She fared better than he did, for at every camp the
+Indian women vied with one another in caring for the girl, who now no
+longer feared their dusky faces. Rutland's love for Nance increased as
+the days passed. The severe task of bearing her over long miles of trail
+became at last a joy. He was more than repaid by her prattling talk, and
+her gentle, affectionate ways. She imagined that he was taking her to
+her parents, and her guardian had not the courage to tell her otherwise.
+
+By the time Rutland reached the Tasko encampment his strength was almost
+gone. If these natives were Christians he would abide here for a few
+days and then carry Nance off somewhere into the wilderness, where they
+would live alone, undisturbed by either Indians or whites. He dreaded
+the idea, however, of doing this, for he knew that it would mean many
+hardships for a time at least. So now as he sat quietly smoking, he was
+anxious to ascertain whether these people would hold a service such as
+he had witnessed at other places. As the evening wore on he was greatly
+relieved when the Indians began to move away to their various lodges. He
+now believed that he was safe, and that these natives were free from all
+influence of missionary enterprise.
+
+At length he picked up his violin case which was lying by his side and
+opened it. Through all the hardships 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 marvellous sounds. As Rutland continued to play
+the natives 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
+telling what they had heard to the rest of their tribe. They were
+naturally musical, these waifs of the wilderness. The sighing of the
+breeze, the murmur of the stream, and the roar of the tempest in winter,
+all had their meaning. They were sounds which soothed or roused their
+wild nature. So as they listened this night their hearts became
+strangely affected. Something more than ordinary began to stir within
+them. It was the same old story being 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 most cultured races and inspired them to higher
+things. These Tasko Indians knew nothing of the history of civilisation.
+They felt only a keen pleasure as the white man played, and they gave
+vent to an occasional "Ah, ah," when something appealed to them more
+than usual.
+
+It was late ere Rutland ceased and laid his violin aside. The Indians at
+once dispersed to their lodges, and silence brooded over the encampment.
+The moon rose big and bright above the mountains and cast its reflection
+down into the depths of the quiet lake. Rutland sat for a while watching
+the superb scene. Then he rose to his feet, and went to the lodge where
+Nance was lying. He saw that she was sleeping comfortably and, bending
+over her, he kissed her little white cheek. The child moved, and the
+word "mamma" came sleepily from her lips. Perhaps the mother, all
+unseen, was watching over her little one--who knows? Rutland crept
+softly away and, with his single blanket wrapped about his body, was
+soon fast asleep upon the hard ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A CABIN FOR TWO
+
+
+In a few days Martin's strength was much renewed. The Indians treated
+him with great kindness, and the women were never weary of caring for
+the little white child. With hooks supplied him by the natives, Martin
+succeeded in catching a number of fine salmon in the lake, and these
+formed excellent food. He looked forward also to the hunting of moose
+and mountain-sheep, for he had brought with him a good rifle and a
+number of cartridges. His spirits naturally rose as the days passed. To
+him the life was ideal. There was a freedom from care, and with Nance by
+his side he often wandered for hours along the shore of the lake. The
+child thoroughly enjoyed these rambles, and many were the questions she
+asked as well as making quaint remarks about the numerous things she
+saw.
+
+Martin soon realised that it would not do to remain idle for any length
+of time. The cool nights warned him that summer was passing, and unless
+he had a shelter for the winter their position would be a sorry one.
+Such lodges as the Indians used would be unbearable to them when frost
+sealed the streams and storms swept howling over the land. He
+accordingly searched around for a suitable place to build a cabin, and
+at length settled upon a beautiful spot near the mouth of the Quaska
+River, where trees stood in abundance suitable for his purpose.
+
+With an axe, borrowed from an Indian, he one day set earnestly to work.
+Martin had been brought up on a farm, and was well accustomed to the use
+of the axe. During the years of his wandering life he had been forced at
+times to toil as a labourer to earn his daily bread. He now put his
+heart into his task and worked with a will such as he had not known for
+years. He had to ask no one for the use of the land, and the trees were
+standing ready for him to cut. As he cleared the ground upon a gentle
+elevation several rods back from the river, he would stand at times and
+look out over the lake. The thrill of ownership possessed his soul, and
+he felt that he would not exchange his lot for the most favoured being
+on earth. Every day Nance accompanied him and played among the trees and
+branches. He built her a little playhouse, and sometimes he would sit by
+her side to rest, play with her, or tell some story to delight the
+child's heart.
+
+The cabin Martin planned to build was not a large one. It was only for
+two, he told himself, but it must be as cosy as his hands could make it.
+There were to be two rooms; one where they would live and the other
+where provisions would be stored.
+
+After the foundation had been laid Martin began to carry stones from the
+river and the shore of the lake. With these he constructed a fire-place
+at one end of the building. This was a work of considerable importance,
+and occupied him for several weeks. The stones had to be broken, shaped,
+and then laid carefully together with clay, which he found by digging
+along the shore of the lake. This, when hardened, was almost like
+cement, and served his purpose better than the ordinary mortar.
+
+When the fire-place was completed, and tapered off into a capacious
+chimney, he set to work upon the walls of the cabin. Logs, hewn on three
+sides, were laid one upon another, and fitted closely together. Then
+came the roof, composed of long poles, covered with mud and turf. Moss
+was used for the chinking of the walls, and to obtain this Martin and
+Nance went every day to a swamp a short distance back from the river,
+until a sufficient supply was gathered.
+
+By the time this work was completed the days were much shorter. Martin
+was anxious to occupy his cabin as soon as possible, for he was afraid
+that the cold nights in the Indian lodge might not be good for Nance.
+With much difficulty he fashioned a door. It was a marvellous
+contrivance when finished, and Martin was quite proud of his handiwork.
+He had no glass for windows, and so was forced to use the skins of
+mountain-sheep, with the hair removed and scraped very thin. These,
+stretched across the openings, let in considerable light during the day,
+and kept out the wind and cold as well. The floor was made of logs, hewn
+as smooth as the axe could make them. The living room was only eighteen
+feet long by twelve wide, which could easily be heated, and quite large
+enough for two.
+
+For the first time in his life Martin possessed a house entirely his
+own, and which he had built with his own hands. In days long past he had
+pictured to himself a little home which he and Beryl would occupy. He
+often thought of those day-dreams as he toiled at his cabin. In fact she
+had been much in his mind since the night he had seen her in the church
+and listened to her singing. Try as he might, he could not forget her,
+although the remembrance always brought a bitter pang to his heart of
+what he had forever lost. Often he would lie awake at night thinking of
+the days when they were so much together. At times he had an almost
+irresistible longing to see her again. This, however, he was forced to
+banish, as he well knew that such a thing was impossible. While busy at
+work upon the cabin he had no time to brood over his past life. He was
+always so tired at night that he slept soundly until the break of day.
+He dreaded the thought of having nothing to do. Action was his one
+salvation, and he knew that he must be busy at something. He would find
+occupation, so he told himself, which would keep his mind from dwelling
+upon the things he wished to forget.
+
+It was a cold night when Martin lighted the fire and brought Nance to
+the cabin. A fierce wind was howling over the land, swaying the trees
+and ruffling the surface of the lake. Nance stood watching the flames as
+they licked up the chimney.
+
+"Pretty, pretty!" she cried, clapping her hands with glee and then
+stretching them out toward the fire.
+
+"Is Nance happy now?" Martin questioned, watching with interest the
+bright sparkle of her eyes, and the fire-light playing upon her face and
+hair.
+
+"Yes, happy," the child replied. Then she climbed upon his knee, and
+laid her head against his shoulder. "When will we go to my papa and
+mamma?" she at length asked.
+
+"Not yet, Nance," and Martin's voice was low. "You must stay with me for
+a while. But tell me about them, little one, for I never knew them."
+
+"You didn't know my daddy and mamma!" and Nance lifted her head and
+looked straight into her guardian's eyes. "Isn't that funny," and she
+gave a queer little chuckle. "My daddy was big and so strong that he
+could carry me everywhere. He played with me, too, and we had such fun.
+Mamma used to tell me stories, such nice ones, and she always kissed me
+when I went to bed. I wonder where she can be."
+
+"Do you like stories, Nance?" Martin asked.
+
+"Oh, yes. I like nice ones about fairies. Mamma often told me about
+Alice in Wonderland. Do you know that? It is so pretty. I'll get mamma
+to tell it to you some day."
+
+A lump came into Martin's throat as he listened to the prattle of this
+child. How could he ever tell her that she would never see her dear
+parents on earth again? Would it not be as well for her to know the
+whole truth now? But no, it would be better to wait for some time until
+she was older. A sudden idea came into his mind.
+
+"Look, Nance, suppose we play that I am your daddy, and that your mamma
+is sitting right here by our side."
+
+"Oh, yes," Nance was ready for the game, "and I'll call you 'daddy,' and
+we'll talk to mamma, and make believe that she's right here."
+
+How often in the past in his old parish had Martin pictured to himself a
+scene similar to this. It had all been so real: an open fire, a child on
+his knee, and Beryl by his side. He closed his eyes, while a sigh
+escaped his lips.
+
+"Daddy." He started at the name. "Are you sleepy? Why do you do that?"
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Oh, this," and she drew in her breath, and let it out again.
+
+Martin laughed. "I was just thinking, Nance, that was all."
+
+"Well, don't shut your eyes, and don't think, or mamma will be cross,
+won't you, mamma?" and she turned to an imaginary person nearby.
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Tell a story, and mamma and I will listen."
+
+"Tell a story, Nance! What kind of a one do you want?"
+
+"Oh, a fairy story, about flowers, and birds, and people--a story like
+mamma used to tell."
+
+Martin sat for a while without replying, watching the fire dancing
+merrily before him. It was a fairy-story the child wanted, and he could
+not remember any.
+
+"Go on, daddy," Nance demanded.
+
+"Yes, little one, I will. I'm only thinking."
+
+"Well, don't think," was the imperious command. "Talk."
+
+"Once upon a time," Martin began, "there was a little boy who had a
+beautiful home."
+
+"That's nice." Nance sighed, as she nestled her head back comfortably
+against the strong arm which was supporting her.
+
+"And the boy," Martin continued, "had a father and a mother who loved
+him very much. All day long he played in the sunshine, amongst the
+flowers, birds, and butterflies. He had a big dog, too, and they were
+always so 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! could the flowers talk?" Nance asked in amazement. "Wasn't it
+funny?"
+
+"Yes, those flowers could talk, and understood everything 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!" Nance was wide awake now. "Wasn't he bad! How did he hurt it?"
+
+"He just broke it down, so it could never stand up again."
+
+"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 he had done, and he was afraid. So he ran away
+again, far off into a land of wilderness. His heart was very sad and
+lonely. No one loved him, and everybody thought that he was so bad."
+
+"And wasn't he, daddy? He must have been bad or he wouldn't have hurt
+the beautiful flower."
+
+"He was very, very sorry, Nance, and his heart was heavy all the time,
+but no one knew that. Then one day he found another little flower. She
+had fallen into the water, but some kind people saw her and saved her.
+The gardener took this lovely flower with him wherever he went. He built
+a little house among the trees, where they lived all by themselves, and
+were so happy."
+
+"What was her name, daddy?"
+
+"The gardener called her 'Heart's Ease.'"
+
+"Funny--funny--name," came low and sleepily from the child.
+
+Martin paused, while his thoughts roamed back over the past. He sat thus
+for some time holding Nance, who had fallen asleep in his arms. At
+length he arose, laid the child gently in the little rough cot he had
+prepared for her with such care, and wrapped her well up in the blanket
+he had obtained from an Indian. He stood for a while watching her by the
+flickering light of the fire. He then picked up his violin and, seating
+himself, began to play soft and low. The wind roared and howled outside,
+but Martin heeded it not. A mystic door had noiselessly opened, and he
+had passed through into an enchanted world, where the sorrows, regrets,
+and cares of earth were for a time forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+'TIS HARD TO FORGET
+
+
+The following weeks were busy ones for Martin. Winter was fast closing
+in and he had many things to attend to. First of all it was necessary to
+lay in a sufficient supply of food to last them until spring. Of fish he
+had plenty, and these were accordingly cached high up between three
+large trees, safe from prowling dogs or other animals.
+
+He next turned his attention to the hills and forest. It was an exciting
+and memorable day when he brought down his first moose. He was a big
+fellow, 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 overcome 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 excitement 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 would have hurled Martin to the
+earth. But again the rifle spoke, and the monarch of the forest went
+down with a thundering crash, never to rise again.
+
+Skinning the moose, cutting it up, and packing it down to the lake was a
+task of considerable magnitude, and several days passed before all was
+completed.
+
+Martin was now thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the chase, and he
+spent much of his time in the woods. Instructed and assisted by his
+Indian friends, he built a long circular line of traps, consisting
+chiefly of snares and dead-falls. He soon came to know the ways of the
+shy denizens of the forest, and took much pride in matching his skill
+against their cunning. At first meagre success rewarded his labours. The
+lynx, fox, martin, wolverine, and other animals for a time gave a wide
+berth to his carefully laid traps. But after a while a change took
+place, and each day he was able to bear home several furry prizes. These
+were promptly skinned, and placed upon stretchers, which the Indians had
+taught him how to make.
+
+During Martin's absence from his cabin Quabee, the young Indian woman,
+stayed with Nance, and they thus became firm friends. But the child
+would always watch most anxiously for the return of her daddy, as she
+now called him, and never once did she forget to ask him if he had found
+her mamma and her "real daddy."
+
+Through the evenings, which were now very long, Martin worked upon the
+interior of his house. With considerable difficulty he fashioned a
+table, and a wonderful easy-chair. He also constructed a couch to the
+left of the fire-place. Upon this he placed a liberal supply of fir
+boughs, over which he spread a large well-dressed moose skin which he
+had obtained from the natives. The cabin was thus made fairly
+comfortable, and when lighted by the blazing fire it presented a most
+cosy 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 through native skill had
+been dried and compressed into cakes. Such delicacies had 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 Nance played upon the floor by Martin's side with a funny
+doll he had made for her. She was delighted with it, and could never
+have it out of her sight 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 instructed 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 bathtub out of the butt of
+a large pine tree. It had taken him days to perform this, but when it
+was finished he was quite proud of his accomplishment. This was
+accordingly installed in the cabin, and Quabee soon learned what it was
+for. In this she gave Nance her bath every morning near the fire.
+
+Other Indians came at times to the cabin, but Quabee and her husband
+were there every day. The Indian woman was quick, intelligent, and most
+anxious to learn the ways of the white people. Having no children of her
+own, she placed her affection upon Nance, and the idea of receiving pay
+for her services never once entered her mind. She was a superior woman
+in many ways, tall, straight, and comely in appearance. She was never so
+happy as when with Nance. She would play with her, and the child soon
+began to learn a number of Indian words, while Quabee added daily to her
+knowledge of the English language. The Indian woman also made neat
+little dresses of the finest of dressed deer-skin for the white child,
+trimming the borders with beads, and coloured fringes. Little moccasins
+she made as well, and when Nance was fully attired in this native
+costume Martin thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight.
+
+This constant association with Nance and the instruction she received
+from Martin ere long exerted an influence upon the Indian woman. She
+became somewhat neater in appearance, and she daily endeavoured to act
+more like the white people. She and her husband were greatly pleased
+with the log cabin, and they decided to have one just like it.
+
+One cold night, three weeks before Christmas, Martin was sitting before
+the fire lost in deep thought. Nance was playing quietly by his side
+with her much-worn doll. On the floor at his left was a pile of furs,
+consisting principally of fox, lynx, wolverine, and beaver. He had
+counted them over several times, and had them all marked down upon a
+piece of bark of the birch tree. His only pencil was a small sharpened
+stick, which he blackened from a dead coal lying upon the table.
+
+Martin had never lost track of the days and months, for one of the few
+things he had brought with him into the wilderness was a tiny calendar.
+He had carefully observed Sunday, and abstained from all unnecessary
+work on this day. He told himself that it was not only for his bodily
+welfare that he should do so, but it was the divine command. It had
+nothing to do with the Church, so he reasoned, and although he had been
+separated from the latter, he still believed that the Great God was his
+Father, and that His Son had died for mankind. He was by no means an
+unbeliever, except in his attitude toward the Church. In fact he had
+always been most careful about Nance repeating her little prayer every
+night at his knee, although he himself had abandoned the practice since
+he had become an outcast.
+
+With much care he traced with his rude pencil the things he needed to
+make the cabin more comfortable, as well as the food and clothing
+necessary for Nance. Indian hunters were to start in the morning for the
+trading post across the mountains, and they would take his skins, and
+bring back the articles he required. They were not many to be sure, but
+the Indians could easily bring them with their dog teams, and they were
+quite willing to do it for their white brother.
+
+A delighted chuckle from Nance aroused him, causing him to glance
+quickly in her direction.
+
+"What is it, little one?" he questioned, as the child sprang to her feet
+and came to his side.
+
+"Look, see!" she cried. "We are playing Santa Claus. Mamma is fixing up
+a tree for me and dolly, oh, such a pretty tree."
+
+"It is a beauty," and Martin opened his eyes wide, and stared hard at
+the imaginary tree. "What nice things you have upon it."
+
+"Oh, no, there's nothing on it yet," and the child gave a chuckle of
+delight. "We're just fixing it up for Santa Claus. He's coming, you
+know, and will put such lovely things on it."
+
+"Do you think that old Santa will find you here?" Martin inquired.
+
+"He found me last Christmas, all right, and brought me such lovely
+things--a little woolly dolly, and candy. When will it be Christmas
+again?" and Nance climbed upon Martin's knee. The imaginary tree was
+well enough in play, but it could not take the place of the real one.
+
+"Christmas will soon be here, Nance. It won't be long. What would you
+like Santa Claus to bring you this year?"
+
+"Oh, so many things," and the child clasped her little hands together as
+she gazed thoughtfully into the fire. "I want a new dolly, that will
+shut her eyes and go to sleep. I want candy--and something for Quabee,
+and the little Indian children. And I want----"
+
+"And what?" Martin asked as she hesitated.
+
+"I want my daddy and my mamma. Oh, why don't they come! Do you think
+they will come this Christmas?"
+
+"Not this Christmas, Nance. You must wait, and some day you will
+understand why they cannot come to you now. But we'll fix up a tree, a
+little one, won't we?" he suggested in order to divert her attention.
+"We'll find a nice one and put it right by your bed, and we'll play that
+your daddy and mamma are here."
+
+"Oh, yes," and Nance clapped her hands with delight. "And we'll let the
+Indian children see it, won't we? 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 written. "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 fort, bringing with them the
+long-looked-for 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. Martin 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 watcher. When night, cold and dreary, shut down Martin's
+last hope vanished. He now no longer expected the return of the Indians.
+It was with a heavy heart that he played with Nance, told her several
+stories about Santa Claus, and the Christmas trees he had when he was a
+little boy.
+
+"And just think!" the child exclaimed with delight, "when I wake in the
+morning there will be such nice things upon my tree."
+
+Martin did not reply; how could he? He merely held her close, and stared
+straight before him into the fire. He pictured her bitter disappointment
+when she opened her eyes and found the tree as bare as it was the night
+before. What could he say to her, and how would he be able to soothe her
+sorrow? When at last she was snugly tucked into her little cot she put
+her arms around Martin's neck, and gave him a good-night kiss.
+
+"Be sure and call me early in the morning, daddy," she said. "And you'll
+help me take my presents off the tree, won't you? Oh, I'm so happy!"
+
+Holding fast to her queer battered doll, she was soon in slumber deep.
+Martin stood watching her sweet chubby face lying on the rough pillow,
+and in spite of himself tears came into his eyes. He threw himself upon
+the chair before the fire. If anyone had told him one year ago that a
+mere child could so capture his heart and weave such a wonderful spell
+about him he would have scorned the idea. But now that little being
+lying there was far dearer to him than life, and to think that such a
+sorrow should come to her in the morning!
+
+Time and time again he replenished the fire from a liberal supply of
+wood in the corner. He felt that it would be useless to go to bed, for
+he knew that he could not sleep. How long he sat thus he could not tell,
+but he was at length aroused by the faint jingle of bells, and a noise
+outside. He sprang to his feet and listened eagerly. Yes, it must be the
+Indians! Hurrying to the door, he threw it open, and peered forth. There
+before him were the forms of men and dogs. The former were busily
+unfastening something from their sleds. His greetings to the natives
+were answered by several grunts. They were too anxious to get to their
+own lodges to waste any time in talk just now. Presently several parcels
+were handed to him, and Martin was much surprised at their number. He
+placed them upon the floor, and when the Indians had departed he closed
+the door, and carried the bundles over to the fire.
+
+With much satisfaction Martin now examined each parcel. Yes, there was
+everything he had ordered--rice, sugar, beans, tea, tobacco, pencils,
+paper, and several other things. Then his face grew grave, for he could
+not find the presents he had ordered for Nance. With a sinking heart he
+placed the goods against the wall, and was standing looking down upon
+them when a noise was heard at the door. It opened, and an Indian
+stepped into the room. He was carrying a parcel in his hands.
+
+"Injun no savvey," he quietly remarked. "Injun all sam' lose 'um."
+Saying which he held forth the bundle, and, turning, left the building.
+
+Martin seized the parcel, and hastily tore off the paper wrapping. Then
+he gave vent to an exclamation of joy, for lying before him were the
+presents for Nance. He did not touch them at first, but crossing the
+room stood for a while gazing upon the sleeping child. A new feeling now
+possessed his heart, and he was anxious for morning to come that he
+might watch the joy in her sparkling eyes.
+
+Going back to the presents, he examined them, and was greatly surprised
+at the number. He had no idea before that they kept so many things at
+the trading-post. There were several picture-books as well, and such a
+pretty little dress, and candy in coloured bags, all neatly made.
+
+As he turned the various things over a piece of paper caught his eye.
+Picking it up, he read the words written thereon. As he did so his face
+grew dark, and the light of joy died out of his eyes. It was from the
+trader at Fort O' Rest. He did not keep toys, so he wrote, but a mission
+post had been established there the previous summer, and he had shown
+the missionary and his wife the birch-bark letter. They accordingly
+became much interested in the little girl away in the wilderness, and
+had made up the parcel of presents for her.
+
+This was the substance of the letter, and every word burnt itself into
+Martin's soul. He sank into his chair, holding the paper in his hand,
+which trembled from the vehemence of his emotion. So these presents were
+the gift of the Church. He knew very well that they had been sent in a
+bale to the mission by some society of the Church to which he had once
+belonged. The words of his old bishop flashed into his mind: "Do you
+imagine that you can cut yourself off from the influence of the Church
+of your childhood? I tell you that you are mistaken, 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 groaned as he
+realised how true were these words. He had laughed at them when first
+spoken, fool that he was. How little he knew and understood the power of
+the Church.
+
+He rose abruptly to his feet. He seized several of the presents in his
+hands and carried them to the fire. He would not take them from the
+Church, no, not for the sake of the child he loved. He could endure her
+sorrow rather than the bitter remorse which was sure to follow him.
+
+As he stood there, hesitating for an instant, Nance stirred in her
+sleep. "Daddy, Santa Claus," she murmured. That was all, but it was
+enough to cause Martin to draw back. The perspiration stood in beads
+upon his forehead, not caused by the fire alone. He paced rapidly up and
+down the room, pausing at times to look upon the child. It was a stern
+battle he was fighting. How could he accept those presents from the
+Church? And yet how could he disappoint Nance? He wavered to and fro. It
+was his own battle, and there was no one to help him. He went to the
+door, and looked out. He knew that it was past midnight by the position
+of the stars. All was still and cold. The sharp air cooled his hot face,
+and somewhat calmed his excited mind. He closed the door and sat down.
+It was Christmas morning, the day which had always brought such a peace
+into his soul until his fall. He thought of it now and of the days of
+youth when he had gone with his parents to the little parish church. He
+saw the choir singing the familiar words of "Hark! the Herald Angels
+Sing," and "O Come, All Ye Faithful." He knew that in a few hours they
+would be singing them again in the same parish from which he had been
+driven out. Try as he might he could not banish the vision of the past
+which came to him this night. A spirit of peace seemed suddenly to
+surround him, while the old feeling of bitterness and animosity was for
+a time forgotten. He could not explain it, neither did he try to do so.
+
+How long he remained there he could not tell. Whether he fell asleep and
+dreamed all the things he saw he did not know. But when he at length
+aroused himself the fire was burning low, and the dawn of a new
+Christmas day was stealing over the land. He threw several sticks upon
+the fire, and then, picking up the presents, he hung them all upon the
+tree. The strife for the present was over. Nance would be happy when she
+awoke, and that was all-sufficient.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE CEASELESS THROB
+
+
+After the Christmas excitement life settled down to a quiet monotony in
+the little cabin at the mouth of the Quaska River. Nance played day
+after day with her doll and other toys, and never seemed to grow weary
+of them. Martin visited his traps each day, and during the long evenings
+remained at home. There was no work he could do upon the interior of the
+building, so he had very little to occupy his time. Nance always went to
+bed early, after she had several stories told to her. Silence then
+brooded over the place, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the
+sound of the violin, upon which Martin would play when the mood was upon
+him. There was nothing else for him to do but sit and smoke, alone with
+his own thoughts.
+
+For a while he was contented with this quietness and solitude. But
+Martin was a man, not a beast of the pen, and he possessed something
+besides a mere body. There was a power within him which refused to be
+still. It was ever active, like the ceaseless throb of the engine
+concealed within the ship. He had known other things. He knew what it
+was to study, to think, and to aspire. His training had made him so, and
+he could not endure a life of inactivity.
+
+For the first time since entering the wilderness an insatiable longing
+came upon him for books, or reading matter of some kind. He thought of
+his well-filled shelves in his old parish. What a pride he had taken in
+his library, and what joy had always been his when he could be alone for
+a while with his favourite authors. But now he had nothing, not even a
+scrap of a newspaper. He looked around the barren room, and a tremor
+shook his body as he realised what little chance there was of ever
+having those rude walls adorned with books. And what an opportunity for
+reading, he mused, by the bright light of the open fire.
+
+He was thinking thus one evening when the door softly opened and Taku
+and Quabee glided into the room, and squatted upon the floor to his
+left. Martin was pleased that they had come, as he was beginning to be
+quite fond of these two well-behaved natives. The only difficulty he had
+was in talking with them. He did not understand their language, while
+their knowledge of the English tongue was most meagre. Otherwise they
+would have proven most congenial company.
+
+By their manner he knew that they had come for some special purpose, for
+they were unusually silent, and sat for a time without saying a word.
+Martin offered Taku a plug of tobacco, which the latter took, filled his
+pipe, and then handed it over to his wife. Soon large volumes of smoke
+were filling the room, while expressions of satisfaction rested upon the
+faces of the visitors.
+
+"Good!" Taku ejaculated, looking at Martin. "Fine squaw, eh?" and he
+motioned towards Quabee.
+
+Martin nodded.
+
+"You teach 'um all sam' white man, eh?" Taku continued.
+
+"What's that?" Martin inquired. "Me no savvey."
+
+"You mak' 'um spik all sam' white man?"
+
+"Oh, I see. You want to speak white man's tongue? you want to talk as I
+do?"
+
+"Ah, ah, all sam'."
+
+"Maybe so," was the slow reply. "I'll think it over. You come in the
+morning."
+
+"You mak' Injun sling, eh?"
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Sling, all sam' dis," and Taku began to hum the air of a tune he had
+learned.
+
+"Where did you hear that?" Martin asked somewhat sharply.
+
+"At post. White squaw mak' beeg box sling all sam' dis," and the Indian
+tapped upon the floor with his fingers, imitating some one playing an
+organ.
+
+"And did she sing, too?" Martin questioned.
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"And you savvey it, eh?"
+
+"Ah, ah. Me sling all sam' white squaw. Me no savvey talk," and he shook
+his head in a disconsolate manner.
+
+"You want to savvey the words, do you?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"Well, then, I shall think about it. You come to me in the morning.
+Savvey?"
+
+"Ah, ah. Me savvey."
+
+When the Indians had departed Martin sat for a long time in deep
+meditation. An uneasy feeling possessed him. He knew very well now that
+the hunters who had gone to the post for supplies had come in contact
+with the missionaries there, and had attended service. They would go
+back again, and each time they would hear and learn more about the
+teaching of the Church. Soon they would hold service among themselves,
+and sing the hymns as well.
+
+Presently an idea flashed into his mind, which somewhat startled him. It
+was not unlikely that the missionary, knowing of these Indians, would
+visit them from time to time and hold service among them. Again the
+bishop's warning came to him. He was surely learning now how true were
+those words. He paced rapidly up and down the room. What should he do?
+Must he leave this place, and the cabin upon which he had expended so
+much labour, and depart? If he did so where could he go from the
+influence of the Church?
+
+A sudden thought stabbed his mind, which caused him to pause in the
+middle of the room. Why had not the idea come to him before? he asked
+himself. He crossed at once to the chair he had recently left, and sat
+down. He wished to think it all out very carefully. The Church had cast
+him off, and he had fled from its influence. He had been always on the
+defensive. Why not change his position and assume the aggressive? The
+Church was nothing to him now except the great disturber of his peace of
+mind. Although he was only one, yet why should he not show that he could
+retaliate? Why run away like a cur? Would it not be better for him to
+use his influence and oppose the onward march of the Church into the
+valley of the Quaska? He would teach the Indians the English language,
+and when they could understand him intelligently he would speak to them
+about the Church, and it would not be to its advantage, either.
+
+The conclusion Martin arrived at this night did not trouble him in the
+least. He believed that he was justified in the course he was about to
+pursue. He wondered why he had not done this before. More than once the
+idea came to his mind that he would like to go back to the ways of
+civilisation and expose the Church. He knew many things about it which
+were not generally known, for he had been within the inner circle. He
+had seen much sham, hypocrisy, and even downright sin in the fold. He
+could tell of the strife, and division which often existed; of the
+incessant struggle for high positions; of the jealousy and envy which
+were so common. Oh, yes, he would unfold a tale which would startle the
+world. He thought of all these things as he lay that night in his bunk.
+Not once did there come to him a realisation of his own misdeeds, but
+only those of others.
+
+Early in the morning Taku and Quabee came to the cabin, bringing with
+them so many other Indians that the room could hardly hold them all.
+Martin looked upon them with something akin to despair, although he
+determined to do the best he could to instruct them. He chose the
+simplest words at first, using the common articles with which they were
+familiar as illustrations. The natives were most anxious to learn, and
+repeated the words over and over again with remarkable patience. Time
+was nothing to them, and in fact they would have remained all day if
+Martin had been willing to instruct them. But a lesson of two hours was
+all that he could endure, especially as the atmosphere in the room had
+become almost unbearable. When he stopped, and signified that there
+would be no more teaching that day his scholars made no movement to
+depart. They remained squatted upon the floor with an expression of
+expectation upon their faces, which Martin could not understand.
+
+At length Taku rose slowly to his feet, and stood before the white man.
+
+"Injun wait," he began. "Injun lak' sling all sam' white squaw," and he
+jerked his thumb toward the east.
+
+These words were received with much approval by the assembled natives.
+Martin well understood what they meant, and his heart beat rapidly. What
+should he do? Should he teach these Indians to sing the hymns of the
+Church which had cast him out, or should he poison their minds by
+telling them that such things were all nonsense? The Indians were
+observing him closely, and it seemed as if they were watching the
+struggle which was going on in his mind. Their eyes appeared to reproach
+him, and for relief he lifted the violin from its case, and began to
+tune up the instrument.
+
+While he thus stood in the valley of decision Martin glanced towards
+Nance, sitting quietly by Quabee's side. Her sweet innocent face was
+turned towards him, and her bright eyes were following his every
+movement. He glanced towards the expectant natives. They were Nance's
+companions, and would be for years to come. Suppose he denied them their
+request now, and turned their minds against religious teaching, what
+would be the outcome? What had he to offer them instead? By influencing
+them for good it would be a benefit to Nance as well.
+
+His hands trembled as he continued to thrum upon the strings. How could
+he turn against the Church? 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 the verge of
+opposing. Then his mind flashed to Beryl. Beryl! What a vision rose
+before him. How could he deny the Church of which she was such a devoted
+member? What did all the sham and pretence amount to in comparison with
+her! A Church which could produce such characters as his parents and
+Beryl, how could he fight against it?
+
+By this time the Indians were becoming restless. They 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 laugh broke from his lips, as he rose
+from the stool on which he had been sitting, and laid the violin upon
+the table. What a fool he had been, he told himself, for having wavered
+even for an instant. Why should he teach these natives the hymns of the
+Church? If he began now there would be no end. They would come every
+day, demanding more. No, it should not be. It was far better not to
+begin, no matter how angry the Indians might be.
+
+When the natives understood that the white man would not play for them,
+and that the instructions for the day were ended, they departed surly
+and dejected. But Martin did not care what they said or thought. He had
+made up his mind to oppose the Church, and he was not to be turned aside
+any more. Twice, at least, during the past year he had been weak, and
+had given way, but it must never happen again.
+
+That night after the simple supper was over, the few dishes washed and
+put away, Nance climbed upon Martin's knee.
+
+"Tell me about the beautiful flower, please," she pleaded, laying her
+head contentedly against his shoulder.
+
+"What flower, dear? Heart's Ease?"
+
+"No, not that one now. The other one, you know, which could sing so
+lovely."
+
+"Oh!" Martin caught his breath. He was surprised that Nance should make
+such a request when he had been thinking so much about Beryl all through
+the day.
+
+"Why do you wish to hear about her, little one?" he asked after a pause.
+
+"'Cause I like her. I think about her so much, and how pretty she must
+be."
+
+"Yes, she is pretty, Nance, and so very, very good."
+
+"What's her name, daddy?"
+
+"Beryl."
+
+"Oh, isn't that a funny name for a flower!"
+
+"It is. But you see this flower is a woman."
+
+"A woman!" Nance sat up straight, and looked full into Martin's face.
+"I'm so glad. It's much nicer than being just a flower. You called her
+that in play, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes, Nance, just in play."
+
+"And is she a really real woman?"
+
+"A real woman, Nance; the most beautiful I ever saw."
+
+"More beautiful than my own mamma?"
+
+Martin started at this unexpected question. A picture 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?
+
+"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 girls?"
+
+"Yes. She loves everything that is good and beautiful."
+
+"Does she love you, daddy?"
+
+"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 arms 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 simplicity 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 usual
+good-night kiss she looked up earnestly into his face.
+
+"When I am a big woman," she said, "I want to be just like Beryl. Do you
+think I will, daddy?"
+
+"I trust so," was the quiet reply. "But go to sleep now, and we'll talk
+about it to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE DISCOVERY
+
+
+The more Martin considered the idea that the missionary might cross the
+mountains and visit the Tasko Indians the more uneasy he became. He
+called himself a coward and asked why he should run away. But he well
+knew that he could not bear to meet the missionary. It would be better
+for him to be on the watch and slip away with Nance somewhere out of
+sight if necessary. He could come back again, for the missionary would
+not be likely to make more than one visit a year if he came at all.
+Then, if the Indians became Christians, he could remove to some place
+farther away, erect another cabin, and cut himself off entirely from all
+contact with the natives.
+
+In order, however, to move around easily and at will, it was important
+that he should have a canoe of his own. By means of this he could
+traverse the river leading from the lake, and explore the region lying
+westward. He had spoken to Taku about the country beyond, but the Indian
+knew very little. It was a land of mystery, so he was informed. The
+River Heena, which drained the lake, flowed on and on until it came to a
+mighty river called by the Indians the "Ayan."
+
+After careful consideration, Martin determined to fashion a canoe out of
+one of the trees standing near the shore 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 spring 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 axe 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
+axe and hew away for hours. He was very particular about the thickness
+of the shell, and would often pause and feel the sides to be sure that
+they were not too thick or too thin.
+
+At length the day arrived when the axes 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 of expansion. By means of narrow strips of
+wood hewn smooth and flat the canoe was expanded in the middle to the
+desired width. When the water had been taken out, and the shell allowed
+to cool, the sides of the canoe were thus rigid and curved in a uniform
+and graceful fashion. Martin was much delighted with the craft, and
+thanked Taku most heartily. He was anxious now for the ice to break up
+so he could launch the canoe, and take Nance for a spin upon the lake.
+
+During the whole of this time Nance stayed close by Martin. She played
+among the chips, building little houses for her doll. Often she would
+sit and watch the canoe which was a wonderful thing in her eyes. When
+she was told that it would carry her over the lake she became much
+excited, and could hardly wait for the ice to disappear. But one morning
+when they woke the lake was clear, the ice having all run out during the
+night. Then Martin and Taku launched the canoe, which floated gracefully
+upon the glassy surface of the water. Nance and Quabee sat in the
+bottom, while Martin and Taku used the paddles. Over the lake they sped,
+exploring every cove, and returned after a couple of hours well
+satisfied with the craft.
+
+That night Nance could talk of nothing but the canoe, where they would
+go, and what they would do.
+
+"What shall we call it, Nance?" Martin asked. "We haven't given our
+canoe a name yet, you know."
+
+"Let's call it Beryl," was the reply. "Won't that be a nice name?"
+
+"Very well, little one," Martin assented. "It shall be as you say."
+
+Almost every day after this Martin took Nance out upon the water. The
+fishing was good, and many were the fine salmon they brought to land.
+But when not fishing Martin would paddle slowly over the lake far away
+from the cabin. Often the water was perfectly calm like a huge mirror,
+reflecting the trees and rocks along the shore, as well as the great
+fleecy clouds which floated lazily overhead. At such times a complete
+silence brooded over the lake. No discords from the far-off throbbing
+world of commerce disturbed the quiet scene. It was as serene and
+beautiful as when it came fresh from the hand of its Creator. Here there
+was no mad rush for wealth, position, or fame. Here no huge industries
+vomited forth their volumes of poisonous smoke, nor crushed out the very
+life-blood of countless men, women, and children. Here there was
+abundance for all in forest and in stream. Martin thought of all 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 little 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 listen entranced to its echo far away in the
+distance.
+
+One bright afternoon Martin turned the prow of his canoe up the Quaska
+River. Hitherto he had not paddled up this stream but had been content
+to spend his time upon the lake. For some distance as he advanced the
+shores were lined with fir and jack-pines right to the water's 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 small and
+straggling, showing evidence of fires which had devastated the land. The
+water here was shallow, and at times the canoe grated upon the gravel.
+Ere long he reached the mouth of a small stream flowing into the Quaska.
+Here he ran the craft ashore, and making it fast to a tree he took Nance
+by the hand, and walked slowly up the creek. It was a quiet sun-lit
+place, where cottonwood trees and jack-pines lined the sloping hills. An
+Indian trail led along the bank, and this they followed for some
+distance. Coming at last to a fair-sized 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.
+
+"Oh, this is nice!" Nance sighed, as she took her place at his feet, and
+watched him unfold the parcel which contained their food. "Wouldn't it
+be nice to stay here all the time?"
+
+"Not at night, 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. "Will they
+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 the 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 burnished silver. Birds
+flitted here and there, while squirrels chased one another along the
+ground, and ran chattering up among the boughs overhead.
+
+Martin's eyes were fixed upon Nance, but his thoughts were far away.
+Such a scene of peace and quietness always brought Beryl to his mind. He
+recalled one such afternoon when they had wandered among the trees,
+fields, and flowers. Her bright, happy face rose before him. 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 seems almost too
+good to be true, and I fear lest something may happen to spoil it all."
+How little did she then know that in less than a year her fairy castle
+would be shattered, and all her fond hopes destroyed. Martin's hands
+clenched hard as all this came to him now. He rose abruptly from his
+reclining position, and moved to the bank of the stream.
+
+"What are you doing, Nance?" he asked, not 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 shape queer little
+mounds with the sand which was so fine and black. Presently he noticed
+little 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 examined
+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 beneath the water.
+Scooping up a quantity of this with his hands he found golden specks all
+through it as well as a number of small nuggets each about the size of
+rice. This discovery caused his heart to beat rapidly, and he sat down
+upon the bank in order to think. Gold! Had he made a rich discovery? 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 surroundings
+appealed to him no longer. The idea of the great riches so near
+possessed his mind. The whole valley stretching between the high walls
+was his. It was full of gold beyond measure.
+
+Ere long another feeling came upon him. Suppose he did get gold what
+should he do with it? Gold was useful only out in the world of
+civilisation. But here it was of no more value than the common stones
+lying in the river's bed. The Indians knew nothing about it. To them the
+skins of the animals roaming in the forest were more precious than heaps
+of the gleaming ore. He well knew that if his discovery became known
+beyond the mountains a flood of miners would pour into the region, and
+instead of peace and quietness there would be the wild commotion of a
+mining town. No, such a thing should not occur. It should be kept a
+secret. He would say nothing of his find to the Indians. In fact 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE GOLDEN LURE
+
+
+Martin slept but little that night, as his mind was much 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 imagined
+that he had severed all connection with the outside world and that never
+again could he endure the trammels of conventional social life. He was
+so satisfied with the quiet ways of the wilderness that the awakening
+came as a severe shock. It was the gold which had made the change. He
+could not enjoy it here, but out there what magic it would work. What
+doors hitherto closed would instantly be opened, and great would be his
+influence. What a surprise it would be to the Church which had cast him
+off, he mused, when he arose from seclusion and oblivion, and startled
+the world with his vast wealth. A grim smile of contempt curled his lips
+as he pictured how the church dignitaries, and others, would condone his
+past sin, and fawn upon him because of his 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, be as eager to laud him for his
+munificence? Then he thought of Nance. How much the gold would do for
+her. She would be able to mingle with the most select people. He would
+take her to all parts of the world, and wherever they went they would
+gladly be received because of their riches.
+
+It was little wonder, therefore, that sleep would not come to Martin
+with such visions whirling through his brain. He rose early, long before
+Nance was awake, and prepared breakfast. A new spirit possessed his
+soul. He drank in great draughts of the fresh morning air, and he felt
+like shouting with exultation. He had to give vent to his feelings, and
+the only way he could do so was upon his violin. How he did play! There
+was a triumphant jubilant note in his music. The Indians were surprised
+and startled to hear the strains of the violin at such an early hour,
+while the dogs set up loud barks and howls. The natives tumbled out of
+their lodges and hastened to the white man's cabin. They gathered in
+front of the building, and stood watching Martin as he sat upon a block
+before the door, playing fast and furiously upon his violin. His long
+beard swept his breast, for he had not touched a razor to his face since
+entering the wilderness. His chest was expanded, and his body was drawn
+up rigid and erect. His eyes, which looked straight ahead, glowed with a
+defiant, victorious light. His moccasined right foot beat time upon the
+ground to the music.
+
+For a while the Indians stood watching this unusual sight, and then
+glided back to their lodges. With almost bated breath they discussed
+what they had seen and heard. They believed that the white man was
+possessed with some strange spirit, or why should he look and act in
+such a peculiar manner?
+
+For some time Martin played after the 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. Martin
+smiled as he laid aside the instrument, and turned his attention to the
+child. He felt much relieved, and viewed the whole situation in a calmer
+and more reasonable light. His dreams of wealth had been too fanciful,
+so he told himself. Perhaps he would not find the gold as easily as he
+had imagined. There might not be any in the valley, 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 as soon as possible to
+make a careful examination of the ground. In an Indian lodge he had once
+seen a shovel and a small 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 doubt, who had miserably perished
+in their search for gold. 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 prospector's 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
+the water's edge. This knowledge was of considerable service to him now.
+
+Leaving Nance to continue her play of the day before, Martin scooped up
+a quantity of gravel with his frying-pan. Washing this carefully, he was
+delighted to find some gold lying in the bottom of the pan. His
+excitement now became intense. Stripping off several pieces of the bark
+of the cottonwood tree, he spread them upon the ground. Upon these he
+deposited his treasure so that the sun would dry it, and turned once
+more to the panning of the gravel.
+
+All the morning and afternoon he worked with feverish haste, stopping
+only long enough to eat his meal with Nance. The lure of the gold was
+upon him, and it was with great reluctance that he abandoned his task in
+the evening to go back to his cabin.
+
+He now believed that all the ground up and down the creek was rich with
+gold. The magnitude of his discovery almost overwhelmed him. He dropped
+upon the bank and tried to think it all out. He longed to express
+himself to some one, in order to relieve his feelings. Gold! Gold! He
+was wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, and there was no one to interfere
+with him. Gathering up the gleaming ore, he placed it all in his cap.
+
+"Look, Nance!" he cried, as he ran his fingers lovingly through his
+treasure, "this is gold! You will be the richest woman on earth when you
+grow up!"
+
+"Pretty, pretty," the child replied, picking up several of the largest
+nuggets. "Let me play with them."
+
+"Yes, Nance, when you get home. We will both play with them then, eh?"
+
+That night outside the cabin door the gold was all carefully examined,
+and the little stones picked out. This they did each night, for every
+day the work of washing out the gold was continued. It was then placed
+in a strong moose-skin bag and hidden away in the cabin.
+
+After he had been working for some time in the stream Martin turned his
+attention to the bank above. He believed that gold in large paying
+quantity could be found by digging down through the earth and if
+possible reaching bed-rock. This he accordingly began to do, and with
+pick and shovel he made good progress until he struck frozen earth. This
+needed to be thawed, so, gathering dry wood, he kept a fire burning all
+through the day. While this thawing process was going on he prepared
+other shafts over which fires were also built. Every day he dug out the
+softened earth and ere long had several excavations from six to ten feet
+in depth. The farther he descended the richer became the ground. At
+times he would wash out a pan full of earth to find a most gratifying
+amount of gold.
+
+One afternoon he came to gravel which led him to believe that he was now
+not far from bed-rock. In this he was not mistaken, for, digging with
+feverish haste, he struck at last upon solid rock. He could see that the
+gravel was full of gold, and every shovelful he threw out sparkled with
+the golden ore.
+
+The bed-rock, which was soon exposed, sloped downward, and as Martin
+continued his shovelling, he came to a crevice, and here he found gold
+which caused him to drop his shovel and to stare in amazement. Then he
+rubbed his eyes to be sure that he was not mistaken. He stooped for a
+better inspection. He sank upon his knees and tore at the treasure with
+his hands. Some of it was loose, but for the most part it was packed and
+wedged into the split of the bed-rock. How far this ran underground he
+could not tell. But right in sight was a fortune in itself. Compared
+with this new discovery his past efforts seemed ridiculous. He recalled
+how he had hoarded the smallest grains with the greatest care. But here
+it was as plentiful as dirt, nuggets large and small all jammed between
+the rocks.
+
+Although this gold was of no more use to Martin than the gravel lying
+around, yet it filled him with intense excitement. There was the joy of
+discovery, and the happy feeling that so much wealth was his with none
+to dispute his claim. He understood now for the first time something of
+the fascination of the quest which lures men into the wilderness to
+endure untold hardships for the golden treasure. The mere finding the
+gold, looking upon it, and fondling it, form the great reward.
+
+Nance was not with Martin the day of his great discovery. She had stayed
+at home with Quabee as she generally did now, for the trips up the river
+had lost their fascination for her. She had been left much to herself
+and had found no interest in the big holes which Martin had dug in the
+ground. Her sand houses were of more importance to her, and she had
+cried at times when Martin would not play with her. To her the gold was
+nothing more than so many pretty little stones. She did not know that to
+obtain such things men and women in the far-off world would be willing
+to sacrifice almost everything; that for those common things men were
+sweltering, fighting, and dying; or that if the richness of the Quaska
+valley became known a vast army of gold seekers would pour into the
+place and change peace into chaos.
+
+Neither did the natives realise the great wealth lying so near their
+encampment. They knew nothing as yet of the magic power of gold, as all
+their trading hitherto with the white people had been with the skins of
+wild animals. The action of their white brother digging so earnestly up
+the river simply amused them. Ever since that morning when they had
+watched him playing at such an early hour before his cabin door they had
+serious doubts as to his sanity. They had often discussed the strange
+expression in his eyes, and the wildness of the sounds he had made upon
+the "stick with strings," the name they gave to the violin.
+
+Martin was greatly pleased that the natives did not understand what he
+was doing. It would have given him no end of trouble if they realised
+the value of the discovery he had made. Therefore, when he returned to
+his cabin with the gold he had taken off of bed-rock there was no one to
+ask any questions, and no curious excited persons crowding around to
+examine the ore. There was only Nance, who was not even surprised, who
+merely ran to meet him to tell what she and Quabee had been doing during
+the day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+
+All through the rest of the summer Martin carried on his mining
+operations, and steadily the pile of gold within the cabin increased. At
+length the cold nights and the short days warned him that winter was
+fast approaching. He accordingly began to wonder what he should do with
+his treasure. He did not care to have it lying about in the house, as it
+was hard to tell what might happen to it. At any time a white man might
+drift that way, and he well knew that dark deeds had been committed with
+a far lesser motive than the seizure of so much gold. It would prove a
+temptation to almost any man. He would often awake with a start in the
+dead of night thinking that some one was creeping stealthily across the
+floor. Formerly he would sit late before the fire with never a shadow of
+a fear upon his mind. But now he would turn apprehensively towards the
+window, thinking that faces were peering in upon him. He hardly liked to
+be away from home for any length of time lest something should happen to
+the gold during his absence.
+
+His mind became so obsessed with this idea that he became nervous, and
+his peace of mind vanished. At last he determined to deposit the gold in
+a secure place. After careful consideration he dug a hole in the ground
+at the back of the cabin. At the bottom he placed a large flat stone,
+walled up the sides, and plastered them over with clay, such as he had
+used upon the fire-place and chimney.
+
+When this had been finished to his satisfaction he erected over it a
+small, strong log building, the back of the cabin forming one of the
+sides, through which he cut a door. There was no other opening in the
+lean-to, not even a window, so the place would always be in darkness
+except when lighted by a candle. In the floor, and immediately over the
+excavation, he fastened a trap-door, fitting the flat-hewn pieces of
+timber in such an irregular manner that no one would ever suspect that
+there was any opening in the floor at all. Then when the roof was placed
+in position, and all finished, Martin brought the gold from the cabin
+and deposited it in his ground vault. When the trap-door was dropped
+back into place Martin viewed everything with great approval. He called
+this building his "Bank," and he often smiled to himself as he
+considered what a unique bank it really was. He alone was the president,
+shareholder, and depositor. There were no books to keep, and no regular
+hours in which to do business. There was no competition, and no anxious
+watching of the fluctuations in the money market. He had full control of
+everything, and to no one did he have to render any account.
+
+Martin's mind thus became so filled with the lure of the gold that for
+weeks everything else was either neglected or forgotten. From morning
+till night, and often during the night, he thought of the wealth he was
+acquiring. The fear lest the missionary should visit the encampment
+troubled him very little. Nance, too, received but a small share of his
+attention. He found it difficult to play with her, or to tell her the
+stories for which she asked. She was left more and more to Quabee's
+tender care, and always ran to the Indian woman with her little
+troubles. Martin did not notice that the child was eating less of late,
+neither did he awaken to the fact that her happy joyous laugh was seldom
+heard. She would often sit quietly by herself, holding her doll in her
+arms, while her big open eyes gazed far off into space.
+
+One morning when Nance did not get up at her usual time Martin went to
+her cot.
+
+"What's the matter, little one?" he asked. "You are sleepy this
+morning."
+
+A faint smile trembled about the corners of the child's mouth, but she
+made no reply.
+
+As this was something unusual, Martin became anxious. He placed his hand
+to her forehead, and found that it was very hot.
+
+"Nance, Nance! are you sick?" he cried, as he bent and looked
+searchingly into her eyes.
+
+"Yes, daddy," was the low response. "I'm so tired and hot. I want
+Quabee."
+
+As Martin listened to these words he was seized with a nameless dread.
+For the first time he noticed how very wan was her flushed face. What
+should he do? He was helpless in the presence of sickness. The Indian
+women might know what was the trouble.
+
+"So you want Quabee, do you?" he questioned.
+
+"Yes, I want Quabee," was the faint reply.
+
+"Very well, then. I shall go for her at once. I won't be long."
+
+As Martin hurried over to the Indian encampment he upbraided himself for
+his neglect of the child. "I've been a fool, a downright fool!" he
+muttered to himself. "I might have seen days ago that she was failing if
+I had not been so taken up with that cursed gold."
+
+It did not take him long to tell Quabee and her mother, Naheesh, about
+the child's illness, and soon the three were hurrying towards the cabin.
+
+Nance's face brightened as the young Indian woman bent over her. Martin
+saw the smile of greeting and it smote him sore. Knowing that the women
+could do all that was possible for the child, he left the building and
+sat upon the trunk of the old tree just outside the door. What if Nance
+should die? The thought was terrible. How could he live without her? He
+had neglected her so much that the first one she wanted was Quabee. A
+jealous feeling stole into his heart. And yet he knew that it was his
+own fault. Oh, why had he left her so much to herself? It was for her
+sake, he reasoned. He desired the gold for her, not for himself. But if
+Nance should be taken away what good would all the gold in the country
+amount to then?
+
+Later when he crept softly back into the room Nance was asleep, and
+Quabee motioned to him to be silent. Naheesh had gone to prepare some
+medicine from native herbs and bark, and would return shortly. All that
+he could do, therefore, was to sit close by the cot and watch. Ere long
+Nance opened her eyes and asked for water. All through the day she
+tossed upon her little bed. Martin left her side hardly for a moment.
+She did not know him nor any one else in the room. She called often for
+her mother, and piteously asked why she did not come to her. The day
+passed and night came on, but Martin remained at his post with Quabee
+ever near. His eyes seldom left the child's face, and sometimes he would
+hold one of her little hot hands in his. How he longed for her to look
+up into his face, speak to him, and throw her arms about his neck. He
+recalled the last time she had run to him. It was when he was busy
+sorting the gold he had gathered that day. He had put her away somewhat
+abruptly, telling her that he was very busy, and that she must not
+bother him. She had looked surprised, her lips had quivered as she
+turned away towards Quabee. How forcibly the whole incident came to him
+now. What would he not give to have her put her arms around his neck and
+ask him to play with her as of old.
+
+The second night of Nance's illness Martin was sitting alone by her
+side, as Quabee had gone back to her own lodge for a much-needed rest.
+The faithfulness and self-denial of the young Indian woman made a deep
+impression upon his mind. No mother could have been more attentive to
+her sick child than was Quabee to this motherless girl. Martin sat very
+still with his head bent low, but with ears keenly alert to Nance's
+heavy breathing. He tried to be brave and hope for the best. But as the
+hours dragged by he found it difficult to keep up his drooping spirits.
+The terrible fear was ever with him that he was to lose Nance. What
+should he do without her? he asked himself over and over again. With her
+gone, what was there for him to live for? There was no one else in the
+whole world who cared for him except this little child. Why should he
+lose her when she meant so much to him?
+
+A vision of his past life rose suddenly before him. It came upon him
+with a startling intensity, and in a manner altogether different from
+anything he had hitherto experienced. The sin which had caused him to be
+an outcast upon the face of the earth loomed out of the darkness black
+and appalling. There was not one extenuating circumstance connected with
+the whole affair. He saw the woman, whose life he had ruined, left to
+bear her disgrace alone. Never before did he comprehend what a monster
+he really was. What chastisement could be severe enough to punish him
+for what he had done? Had he a right to expect anything else? He
+believed that he had suffered during the past years, but it was as
+nothing compared to what he was enduring this night. His very soul was
+being laid bare by some mysterious power which he could not fathom. Why
+should such thoughts arise within his bosom now? he asked himself. Was
+Nance to be taken away as a part of the punishment which truly belonged
+to him? He had often thought and preached about the miseries of the
+damned, but only now did he realise that a man who has sinned carries
+the tortures of hell within his own bosom.
+
+Haggard and trembling, Martin staggered to his feet, and paced up and
+down the room. The veins stood out upon his forehead; his blood-shot
+eyes had the look of a hunted animal; the muscles of his body were
+firmly rigid, while his clenched hands had the grip of a drowning man
+clinging desperately for life to a few floating straws. How could he
+endure such agony of soul? Would it last through days, months, and years
+to come? He knew that such could not be the case, for if it continued
+much longer he would surely go raving mad.
+
+A slight moan from Nance aroused him. Going at once to the cot, he
+looked down upon the face of the sleeping child. She was talking in her
+sleep, and listening attentively Martin could catch the words, "Mamma,
+Daddy." After a pause she began to repeat the words of a prayer she said
+every night.
+
+    "'Now I lay me down to sleep,
+    I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
+    If I----'"
+
+Then she wandered off and talked about Quabee, her dolly, and the
+Christmas tree.
+
+Martin took her little hand in his, and as he watched her a love, such
+as he had never before known, came into his heart. Then his eyes grew
+dim, and down his cheeks flowed the tears. He sank upon a stool by the
+cot, and buried his face in his hands. Not for years had he wept, but it
+was that little prayer which had unbound the flood-gates and allowed the
+tears to well forth. He thought of the nights she had said the same
+words at his knees, and how she had always prayed for her father and her
+mother. At length he lifted his head and in his eyes was a new light. He
+slipped from the stool, and sank upon his knees upon the hard floor. It
+was no set formal prayer which the outcast uttered this night. It was a
+passionate, yearning cry to the great Father above to spare the little
+child, and to leave her with him for a while longer.
+
+For some time he remained in this kneeling position, but somehow he did
+not receive the reassuring comfort he had expected. He recalled the time
+when peace and comfort had always come to him on such an occasion. Now,
+however, it was so different. He believed that the same Father was ready
+to hear as of old, but why was there not the feeling of peace as
+formerly?
+
+He thought of this as he knelt by the side of the sick child, with his
+face deep in his hands. Then in an instant it all came to him. It was
+his great sin which stood between him and his God! He understood for the
+first time the full meaning of the story of the Garden of Eden. As it
+was impossible for the first parents to go back to the sweet peace of
+their former life after they had sinned, so neither could he return to
+the blessed state of years ago because of the sin which he had
+committed. There stood before him at the gate the explicit "Nay" of the
+eternal God which guarded the entrance to the throne of purity and peace
+as truly as did the flaming revolving sword in the far-off Edenic days.
+He knew that he was an outcast in a more terrible manner than he had
+ever imagined. He was an outcast not only from his Church, but from his
+God. The former he had scorned, believing that he could get along
+without it. But an outcast from his God! He lifted his haggard face as
+the terrible reality dawned upon him. He rose slowly to his feet. He
+groped his way to the big chair, and sank heavily into it, the very
+epitome of wretched despair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+UNFOLDING
+
+
+When morning dawned the horrors of the night lessened, and although
+weary from want of sleep Martin was not so much depressed. This was due
+principally to the fact that Nance was somewhat improved. The change had
+come very quietly, and toward morning she had opened her eyes and had
+spoken to the bowed man crouching in the chair before the fire. Martin
+had bounded to her side, and when he saw the new expression in her eyes
+he knew that the turn for the better had come, and that with care she
+would recover.
+
+There was complete silence in the cabin all through the day, for Nance,
+who had sunk into a natural sleep, must not be disturbed. Quabee, and
+often Taku, kept a patient and faithful watch by the child, while Martin
+slept on the couch to the left of the fire-place.
+
+Thus through the days and weeks which followed this season of anxiety
+Nance rapidly improved. Martin was ever with her, played with her, told
+her stories, and did all in his power to atone for his past neglect. The
+story he was called upon to tell more than any other was about Beryl.
+Nance was never weary of hearing about her, and it was the one which
+Martin was never tired of relating. A mere general and vague idea of
+what her heroine was like would not satisfy the child. She had to know
+the colour of her eyes, hair, what kind of dresses she wore, and how she
+looked when she sang, in fact so many things that Martin's memory was
+severely put to the test.
+
+To Nance Beryl was more than human. The child's vivid imagination
+wrought a marvellous transformation, and invested her heroine with
+qualities little short of divine. As the months passed and Nance's mind
+steadily developed this silent adoration instead of diminishing
+increased. Beryl was her standard of perfection in everything. She must
+have her hair arranged just like Beryl's, and she endeavoured to teach
+Quabee to make her dresses like those of her heroine. The Indian woman
+would often gaze in amazement as Nance talked about Beryl. She could not
+see with the eyes of the child, nor enter into her bright and wonderful
+world of fancy.
+
+The greatest thing of all to Nance was that Beryl could sing. She,
+accordingly, must do the same. She had a sweet voice herself, and a true
+ear, and picked up tunes almost intuitively. Able to sing himself,
+Martin taught her all the songs and hymns he could remember. Then when
+she became old enough he gave her lessons upon the violin. It was a
+great day for the child when she was allowed to take the instrument into
+her own hands. She had often looked upon it with deep longing, and would
+sit for any length of time watching Martin drawing the bow so skilfully
+across the strings, and producing such marvellous music.
+
+Since Nance's illness Martin's mind had been much concerned as to the
+child's future. He had brought her into the wilderness, and was it right
+that she should grow up in ignorance? He began to realise his
+responsibility more and more. Some day, no doubt, she would go out into
+the world of civilisation, and should she go as a young savage? No, such
+should not be the case. He would teach her here in the little cabin. It
+would be the schoolhouse, he the teacher, and Nance the pupil. He would
+instruct her year after year, develop her mind, and lead her into many
+fields of knowledge. Although far away from the great centres of
+education she should have learning which should not make her ashamed if
+ever she should leave her forest home.
+
+With his mind thus made up Martin at once outlined a course of studies
+for Nance. The instruction was very simple at first. Martin was a good
+teacher, the child an apt scholar, and so rapid progress was made. By
+the time Nance was able to read there came the great necessity for
+books. Martin had printed everything for her upon scraps of paper. But
+this was a laborious and a never-ending task. He, therefore, sent an
+order to the trading post, and after waiting for over a year the books
+at last arrived. Martin had written for children's books suitable for a
+little girl. This order the trader had forwarded to his company in
+England, and the selection was accordingly made there.
+
+It was a great event for Nance when the books arrived. It was a cold
+night in midwinter when the Indians returned from their trip to the
+post. There were other things as well in the various packages, but the
+girl had no eyes for anything but the books. Martin, too, was much
+interested. The sight of a book was to him like a sparkling spring of
+water to a thirsty traveller. Although they were only books for
+children, yet he unwrapped the parcel with feverish haste and examined
+each volume. He and Nance were on the floor before the fire, and as the
+thick paper wrapping gave way, and the books were exposed to view, the
+maiden clapped her hands with delight.
+
+"Oh, daddy, look at this!" and she picked up one of the treasures with a
+bright picture on the cover.
+
+"You will like that, Nance," Martin replied. "It's 'Alice in
+Wonderland,' the story your mother used to tell you, and suppose we
+begin upon it first."
+
+Thus sitting upon Martin's knee, with her head resting against his
+shoulder, Nance heard again that sweet, thrilling story of Alice's
+marvellous adventures. Never before had she listened to a tale from a
+real book, and often she would interrupt the reading that she might look
+upon the funny, and, to her, wonderful pictures.
+
+That night after Nance was asleep Martin sat for a long time before the
+fire. The book he was reading was not new to him, but it had been years
+since he had first read "Little Women." It fascinated him now more than
+ever. He could enter into the ways of children, and in every incident
+Nance always rose up before him. How pure and innocent were the little
+folk mentioned in the book, and what a confiding trust they had in their
+elders.
+
+After a while he laid the volume aside and began to muse upon what he
+had just been reading. Suppose that the children should have found out
+that the older ones, surrounding them with such love and care, were very
+wicked, and had committed evil deeds in the past. What a fearful and
+heart-breaking revelation it would have been to them. Then he thought of
+Nance. What if she in some way should learn that he himself was a bad
+man! What would she think? He knew that she looked upon him as her hero,
+and if she should find out the truth about his past life what a terrible
+grief it would bring to her.
+
+Martin sat straight up in his chair as these thoughts swept upon him.
+Nance must never know. She must always think of him as a man true and
+pure. Neither must he give her any cause to believe otherwise.
+
+Martin was not at all satisfied with himself. He longed to be worthy of
+Nance's trust. What would he not give to be able to look into her clear,
+confiding eyes, and to feel that he was just what she considered him to
+be. This was what gave him so much concern now. He wanted the child to
+believe in him, and at the same time he wished to be worthy of that
+belief.
+
+A new life was now opened up to Nance. She was growing fast, not only in
+body, but in mind as well. The books had admitted her into a world of
+wonder of which she had never before dreamed. They were only a few to be
+sure, but she knew them almost by heart. Her music, too, gave her much
+delight, and Martin was astonished at the rapid progress she made. The
+next year more books arrived, with some sheet-music as well, and thus
+Nance's mind was fed upon new delights. Then, one Christmas morning,
+when she opened her eyes, she found at the foot of the Christmas tree a
+fine new violin--her very own. She did not know how much the instrument
+had cost, nor the effort which had been made to obtain it. Her cup of
+joy was now overflowing. Martin, too, was happy as he watched Nance. Her
+eyes sparkled with animation, and her face beamed with happiness as she
+drew the bow deftly across the strings.
+
+That she was developing into a beautiful maiden he was well aware. She
+was growing fast, with a figure lithe and graceful. Her dark eyes
+reflected as in a clear spring the various moods of her nature. They
+twinkled with fun, and danced with delight. Often they grew sad and
+thoughtful, and at times they were soft with the light of love. Hers was
+an affectionate nature, which was revealed more and more as the years
+passed. To her Martin was all in all, and as her mind expanded she saw
+the difference between him and the Indians. The latter were very dear to
+her, especially Quabee. But the native women could not understand the
+deep longings hidden within her bosom. She knew that Martin could, and
+to him she talked.
+
+Nance often wondered what the great world was like beyond the mountains,
+about which she had read so much in the books. Why were she and Martin
+living away in the wilderness among the Indians? she asked herself many
+a time. Martin often noticed the far-away expression in her eyes, and
+partly surmised the cause. It gave him considerable uneasiness. He was
+afraid lest Nance should become dissatisfied and wish to go to the
+places of which he had so often told her. He had expected this, and had
+even looked forward to the day when they would leave their forest home.
+But now when the time seemed to be drawing near he shrank more and more
+from the idea.
+
+Although Nance had just entered her teens when these thoughts came to
+Martin, yet he realised that every year would make the life more
+unbearable to her. She was longing for some white girl to play with. The
+Indian children, notwithstanding the teaching they had received from
+Martin, did not suit her as companions. She seldom cared to play with
+them, preferring to be by herself or with Martin.
+
+During the summer Nance lived mostly in the open. When not roaming along
+the river gathering wild flowers, which grew in such abundance, she was
+out upon the lake with Martin. What life could be more congenial than
+that spent in God's Great Open. Yet in the maiden's heart there was a
+longing for other things. She wished to know more of the world beyond
+the mountains, and to mingle with the people of whom she had heard so
+much from Martin and read about in the books. She often pictured to
+herself what it would be like, how she should act, and what people would
+think of her. At such times she always thought of Beryl, and tried to
+imagine what she would do and say. Such an influence was by no means
+without its effect, and Martin often marvelled how Nance acquired such a
+quiet and graceful manner, never having seen a white woman, except her
+mother, whom she did not even remember. He did not know that the silent
+daily worship of an ideal woman was working the transformation.
+Everything he had told her about Beryl had been thought over so
+continually that the very character of the woman of beauty, refinement
+and nobleness had become indelibly impressed upon the maiden's plastic
+nature.
+
+Thus, while Nance was living in her enchanted world of fancy, Martin was
+brooding deeply over more serious things. Of his burden, which grew all
+the heavier as the years passed, he could in no way lighten it by
+speaking of it to Nance. He had to bear it alone, no matter how crushing
+it might become.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE EDGE OF EVENTS
+
+
+It was a night of wind and storm in the Quaska valley. It had been
+snowing all day, and a fierce wind was driving down the river. As long
+as daylight lasted Nance had stood by the window, looking out towards
+the lake. The mountains were all hidden from view, and nothing could she
+see but the snow which swirled and raved around the house. It was the
+last of January, and all through the winter Nance had been thinking
+seriously of that life beyond the mountains which was drawing her with
+irresistible, invisible cords. She was not a child now, but a young
+woman of seventeen, tall and graceful.
+
+Leaving at length the window, she began to prepare the evening meal. The
+cabin had undergone considerable changes during the past five years. It
+was no longer a bare dingy place. The rough walls had been carefully
+covered with cotton, and this coloured with a light-blue paint, which
+had been procured at the trading post. Magazine-pictures were tacked on
+all sides, while several large rare pelts were stretched out upon the
+walls. The bareness of the floor was relieved by a number of
+well-dressed bear skins. On the side of the fire-place, where Nance's
+cot had formerly stood, a room had been curtained off especially for her
+own use. Instead of scraped skins letting in the light through the
+windows, glass had been obtained at much expense. In the middle of the
+room stood the table as of old, but this now was covered with a cloth of
+a deep rich shade. It had been one of Martin's ambitions to make this
+little home as cosy and comfortable as possible, and each year he had
+added some of the refinements of civilisation. In this way he had hoped
+not only to educate Nance but to make her more satisfied with her lot.
+
+As Nance now prepared supper she laid a white cloth upon the table, and
+brought from a little cupboard to the left plates, cups, saucers,
+knives, and forks. She was a good housekeeper, for Martin had instructed
+her in such matters, as well as in music and other accomplishments. She
+was thus busy at work when the door opened and Martin entered. He stood
+for a few seconds looking upon the scene before him. The bright light of
+the fire illumined the room, forming a pleasing contrast to the
+roughness of the night outside. Nance turned towards him with a smile of
+welcome.
+
+"Oh, daddy," she began, "I'm so glad you are back, as I have been very
+lonesome. What has kept you so long?"
+
+Martin walked over to the fire and laid aside his heavy coat.
+
+"Supper is ready, I see," and he glanced at the nicely-browned piece of
+moose meat sizzling by the fire. "I'm hungry as a bear, so can't tell
+you now what I've been up to. But you shall know before long."
+
+When both were seated at the table, and the meal was well under way,
+Martin looked over at Nance.
+
+"I've heard important news to-day," he remarked.
+
+"At Taku's?"
+
+"Yes. It's somewhat startling, too. The Indians have brought in word
+that there has been a rush of white men into the country. There's been a
+gold strike somewhere down the Heena, and they came in by way of the
+Ayan River."
+
+"Will it affect us here, do you think?" and Nance looked earnestly at
+Martin.
+
+"Not for a while," was the reply. "But we can't expect to be left alone
+for any length of time. There will be prospectors prowling all over the
+country now, and they are bound to strike the rich diggings up the
+Quaska. When that happens there'll be hordes and hordes up this way."
+
+"Will they trouble us any, daddy, do you think?"
+
+"Will they! You may be sure they will. This will be no place for us if
+they discover the gold up yonder. They will swarm in here like flies,
+and our days of peace will be over."
+
+Nance did not reply to these words, and save for the crackling of the
+fire there was silence in the room. Martin's mind dwelt upon the changes
+which would take place around the quiet lake should the miners come. He
+thought also of the gold, so carefully concealed in the ground at the
+rear of his house. He and Nance were the only ones supposed to know
+anything about the treasure buried there.
+
+"Daddy, let us go away from this place," Nance at length remarked.
+
+Martin started, and almost dropped the cup he was raising to his lips.
+He looked keenly into the flushed face before him, and then partly
+understood what an effort it had been for Nance to make such a request.
+
+"Are you tired of living here, little one?" he asked, and his voice had
+a pathetic note, which did not escape Nance's attention. "Are you
+dissatisfied with your lot?"
+
+"Not altogether, daddy. But we used to talk, you remember, how some day
+we would go away to the great world outside, although we have not spoken
+about it for several years. In a way I am happy here, and you do so much
+for me that I should be satisfied. But I do want to see some of the
+things of which you have told me."
+
+"Sure, sure; it's only natural," Martin assented.
+
+"It seems as if we should go soon," Nance continued, "if we are to go at
+all. Should the miners come here our quiet home-life would be broken up,
+and you would not wish to remain any longer if they came, would you?"
+
+Martin did not at once reply to these words. He pushed back the stool
+upon which he was sitting, and drew forth his pipe. His mind was in a
+perturbed state. He had been dreading the coming of the time when Nance
+should wish to leave the Quaska valley. He had taught her for years, and
+she had responded to his teaching. He was proud of her, and he well knew
+that she could soon take her place in the great world beyond. There were
+many things, of course, which she would have to learn there in addition
+to what he had taught her. He had kept from her all knowledge of the
+Church, and of clergymen. Of them she knew absolutely nothing. She would
+naturally be astonished when they went outside, and would ask why he had
+not spoken to her about such things. What answer would he be able to
+give? At times during her reading Nance had come across various things
+about the Church, but as Martin had told her that it was merely a
+society of men and women she had thought nothing more about it then.
+
+Martin dreaded, moreover, the idea of mingling again with many people.
+He tried to believe that all had forgotten him, and what he had done.
+But now he did not feel so sure, as he felt that some would remember.
+For himself he did not care so much. But suppose that Nance should hear
+of it! There were bound to be meddlesome people, who would consider it
+their duty to tell everything they knew. He had met such persons, who
+seemed to consider it a part of their religion to make it as
+uncomfortable as possible for any one who had stepped aside from the
+path of rectitude. He recalled the case of a young man who had slipped
+in life, and had spent several years in prison. Upon his release he
+determined to redeem the past. He obtained a position with a large firm,
+and was giving excellent satisfaction when several human vultures
+recognised him, and with hypocritical solicitude informed the manager
+about the young man's past life. The result was that he was discharged.
+The same thing occurred wherever he went, until, broken in spirit, he
+gave up the fight, and drifted into evil ways. He knew the people who
+had wrecked that young man's after life, and they firmly believed that
+they were doing the Lord's work.
+
+This he well knew would be true in his own case. There would be some who
+would recognise him as the outcast clergyman, and who would consider it
+their unctuous duty to tell all they knew. Of course he and Nance could
+go to some place far off, away from the scene of his disgrace. But even
+there he would not feel secure. The world was small in these days of
+easy travel, and he might find it hard to escape unknown. The gold would
+supply all their needs. His only worry was as to how he could take so
+much outside. It would be very difficult to carry it without arousing
+suspicion.
+
+While Martin was thus musing, Nance had cleared off the table, washed
+the dishes, and put them carefully away. When all had been completed,
+she drew the big chair up close to the fire. Then, going to where Martin
+was sitting, she laid her hand affectionately upon his shoulder.
+
+"Come, daddy," she said, "your chair is all ready. It's more comfortable
+there."
+
+Martin obeyed her without a word. Nance at once took up her position on
+a little stool at his feet, and rested her left arm upon his knee. For
+some time she gazed steadily into the fire without speaking. Martin,
+too, was silent as he sat there smoking away at his pipe.
+
+"Daddy," Nance after a time began, "you are not my real father, are
+you?"
+
+"No, little one, I am not," was the quiet reply. "You knew that, didn't
+you? But I've been a father to you, have I not?"
+
+"Yes, and a mother, too. But I do long to know about my real father and
+mother. When I was little you told me that you would take me to them
+some day. I believed that then, but as I grew older I felt there was
+some reason why you did not do so. I have often longed for you to tell
+me the whole truth, but I was afraid to ask you."
+
+"What were you afraid of, Nance? That I wouldn't tell you, eh?"
+
+"No, not that. You see, I looked forward so long to meeting them that I
+used to dream about it by night, and think about it by day. Then it came
+slowly to me that they were dead. At first I put away the thought, but
+it grew stronger and stronger the older I became. And then I was afraid
+to know the truth, because the old hope of meeting them some day had
+taken such a hold upon me. Now I want to know all."
+
+"I did it for the best, Nance," Martin replied. "When you were little I
+knew that it would give you much sorrow if I told you all. Then as you
+grew older I found it difficult to tell you, and as you did not speak to
+me about them I thought that perhaps you had forgotten. I did it for the
+best. Now I know that I should have told you."
+
+"I know you did; I am sure of it," and Nance turned her eyes up to
+Martin's. "You always do everything for the best. You are so good."
+
+At these words a slight mistiness rose before Martin's eyes. If she only
+knew, he said to himself, how differently she would think. But to Nance
+he only said:
+
+"Yes, I shall tell you all now, for you are a woman, and can understand
+such things."
+
+Then Martin unfolded to Nance the sad scene which had taken place on the
+great Mackenzie River years before. He told her about the accident which
+had deprived her of father and mother, and left her to the mercy of the
+Indians. He related simply the part that he himself had performed in
+caring for her, and carrying her off into the wilderness.
+
+To all this Nance listened with fast-beating heart Her cheeks were
+flushed, caused not by the heat of the fire, but from the vehemence of
+her emotion. When Martin spoke about her mother lying so white and still
+in the Indian lodge her eyes grew moist. But when he mentioned the grave
+upon the hill-top tears streamed down her cheeks, and her form trembled
+violently.
+
+"There, there, little one," Martin soothed, laying his hand
+affectionately upon her head, "I didn't mean to make you feel so badly."
+
+"I know you didn't, daddy," Nance sobbed. "But I cannot help it. My poor
+father and mother! And only think what would have become of me if you
+had not been there! I might have lived the rest of my life among the
+Indians just like one of them. It makes me shudder when I think about
+it. How much I owe to you."
+
+"You have done more for me, Nance, than I have ever done for you."
+
+"For you!" Nance exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, what have I done for
+you?"
+
+"You gave me new life, that is what you have done. Before I found you no
+one loved me, and I had no one to care for. I was a lonely man, without
+any definite purpose in life. But since you came I have had you to live
+for. You are all I have now, Nance."
+
+"I have often wondered," Nance replied, "why you ever brought me here. I
+never liked to ask you, but I have thought about it very much. You know
+so many things about the world outside, and all that it means, that it
+must have been hard to bury yourself away in such a wilderness place as
+this."
+
+As Martin made no immediate reply Nance at first thought that she had
+offended him. Seeing the expression of pain which passed over his face,
+she rose quickly to her feet, and threw her arms about his neck.
+
+"Forgive me, daddy," she pleaded. "I'm so sorry that I asked that
+question. I had no right to do so. You did it for the best, I am sure."
+
+"Sit down, Nance," and Martin motioned her to the stool. "You certainly
+have the right to ask why I brought you here and kept you shut up in
+such a place as this for so many years. But how can I answer you?
+Something caused me to come here, but just what it was I cannot explain.
+I made a failure in life years ago, and so fled into the wilderness to
+be far off from people who knew what I had done. To them I am a bad man.
+But, oh, Nance, I would give anything to be what I once was! How happy I
+should be to be able to go out into the world and not shrink back from
+the looks of men and women. But there, I did not mean to tell you this.
+You will wonder what it all means."
+
+"Don't, don't talk that way, daddy," and Nance placed her hand in his as
+she spoke. "You are not a bad man. I don't care what people say or
+think. They do not know you as I do. If they knew what you have done for
+me all of these years they would think differently. Anyway, no matter
+what people say, it won't make any difference in my love to you. Though
+you are not my real father, I love you just the same."
+
+"I know it, Nance; I know it," Martin huskily replied, while his hand
+closed tight upon hers.
+
+"And, daddy," Nance returned, "if you don't want to go away from here, I
+shall not mind. So don't let us worry any more about it."
+
+"No, Nance; that must not be. It will be for the best if we go away. I
+have been thinking it all over very carefully of late. We shall go out
+to the trading post next summer, in time to go south on the first
+steamer as it returns from its northern trip. I can get a number of
+Indians to pack the gold over the mountain. As to the future, we can
+talk about that again. Come now, let us have some music together, and
+banish all sad thoughts."
+
+Thus in the cosy cabin before the bright fire Martin and Nance played
+upon their beloved instruments. The storm continued to rage outside, but
+they heeded it not. Forgotten for a while were their worries, and what
+the future might have in store did not trouble them. The music cheered
+them, and united their hearts with the strong bands of enduring
+affection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE LAP OF TO-MORROW
+
+
+The storms of winter were over, and the days were rapidly lengthening.
+The sun rode higher in the heavens, and the breath of spring was
+pervading the great northland. Nance was much excited at the thought of
+leaving the Quaska valley and passing beyond the mountains to the
+marvellous world outside. She dwelt upon it by day and dreamed of it by
+night. Her few scanty belongings she had carefully gathered together.
+These she would take with her. But when out in the big cities she would
+buy many wonderful things for which her heart longed.
+
+Martin noted her animation, and listened quietly as she talked about the
+journey they were to make, and what nice times they would have seeing
+the strange sights. Although he was pleased to see Nance so happy, his
+heart, nevertheless, was heavy. To him the idea of mingling once again
+with the throbbing world of humanity brought no joy. The little cabin in
+the wilderness was very dear to him. Here he had spent the past twelve
+years, hidden from people of his own race and immune from the bitter
+tongues of men and women. The lake, river, forest, and mountains were
+friends true and tried. He loved them, and their varying moods drew him
+very close to them. He had watched and studied them so often, both in
+calm and storm, that he wondered how he could get along without them.
+The Indians, too, though rough and uncouth, had been kind neighbors. He
+disliked their manner of living and their improvident ways. Yet they had
+always been good to him and to Nance, and he should greatly miss them.
+Thus he would sit at night, long after Nance had gone to bed, smoking
+and thinking about the changes which were soon to take place in his
+life.
+
+He was seated one evening before the fire with Nance by his side, when
+the door of the cabin was gently pushed open, and Taku glided into the
+room. He was given a hearty welcome, and Martin passed over his tobacco
+as soon as the native had squatted himself upon the floor. When Taku had
+filled his pipe, and clouds of smoke were circling above his head, an
+expression of satisfaction overspread his honest, dusky face.
+
+"Snow all go soon," he at length remarked. "Geese, duck all come back.
+Plenty grub den."
+
+"How long before the ice goes out this year?" Martin asked.
+
+"Beeg moon, leetle moon, moon all go. Ice go also," was the reply.
+
+"In about one month, eh?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"Good fishing this year?" Martin inquired.
+
+"Good feesh? Ah, ah, mebbe so. Taku no feesh," and the Indian shook his
+head.
+
+"What, not going to do any fishing?"
+
+"No. Taku go down ribber. Taku see white man. Taku get moche."
+
+"Oh, I see. But are you sure that the white men are there? Maybe they
+all went away last fall."
+
+Again Taku shook his head, and gazed thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+"White man no go," he at last explained. "Taku see two wan sleep ago."
+
+"What? You saw two white men?" Martin exclaimed, now much aroused.
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Down ribber."
+
+"What, the Heena?"
+
+The Indian nodded.
+
+"And what were the white men doing on the river?"
+
+"Trabblin', dat's all, pack on back. Taku see 'um. Dey in hurry. Dey
+tell Taku come down to beeg ribber."
+
+"Didn't they tell you where they had come from or what they were doing
+in here?" Martin questioned.
+
+"No, dey tell nottin'. Dey in beeg hurry; dat's all."
+
+"Did they tell you what they wanted you for, Taku?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you will go?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Wan sleep. Tak' dog also. Go queeck."
+
+Martin sat up later than usual this night, as his mind was much
+disturbed. Nance saw that something was troubling him, so she did not
+ask for the customary evening music. She kissed him as she had done for
+years, and went to her own little room.
+
+Early next morning Martin announced that he was going up stream, and
+might be gone all day. He left Nance standing in the doorway, looking
+enquiringly after him.
+
+"I will tell you all about it, Nance, when I come back," he called to
+her as she waved him good-bye.
+
+It was supper time ere Martin returned, and over the meal he explained
+the object of his visit up the river.
+
+"It's just what I thought, Nance," he began. "When Taku told us about
+those two white men I had my suspicion, and I was right. They were
+prospectors, and have discovered the gold up the Quaska."
+
+"Oh!" It was all that Nance said as she looked inquiringly across the
+table.
+
+"Yes," Martin continued, "I suspected something, and made up my mind to
+visit my old diggings. There were faded foot-prints all around, and I
+found where the men had shovelled away the snow and examined the hole I
+had made. Of course, as you know, the earth I left is full of gold, so
+they must have found enough in the frozen ground to more than satisfy
+them. I saw the little brush lean-to where they had evidently camped,
+showing that they must have been there several days. I tracked them
+down-stream, and learned that they had been close to our house. Why they
+did not call, I cannot tell. Perhaps they were unaware that white people
+lived here. They turned off sharply to the left, and either crossed the
+lake or went around the other side, and came out upon the river farther
+down."
+
+"Do you think that they will come back?" Nance inquired.
+
+"Come back! Indeed they will, and bring a regular crazy mob with them.
+It isn't every day that men make such a strike as that. As soon as those
+men record what they have found there will be the greatest stampede the
+world has ever seen."
+
+"Will they wait until the river is open, do you think?" Nance asked. "We
+may be away soon afterwards, and so they will not trouble us."
+
+"No, they won't wait, Nance. They will come at once, and many of them,
+no doubt, will die upon the way. There is no trail, and the ice in the
+river is getting weak. I've heard about such stampedes. Men seem to go
+about crazy. They start off with little food, some get hurt, others
+sick, and numbers just play out. It is wonderful to me what men will
+endure for the sake of gold."
+
+Almost three weeks later what Martin had foretold came to pass. The
+vanguard of the prospectors and miners arrived. It was early morning
+when men were observed making their way slowly along the shore of the
+lake. They bore packs upon their backs, and leaned much forward. Each
+carried a stick, which he used as a cane. They all passed close to the
+cabin, so Martin and Nance could see them quite plainly. They did not
+turn aside to rest, but moved steadily onward. They seemed to be very
+weary, and their clothes were ripped and torn. They passed, and, later,
+others came. Several were limping painfully, which told of swollen and
+blistered feet. They, too, passed without stopping. Then far down the
+shore of the lake a struggling line appeared, and as they drew near and
+staggered by, the watchers from the cabin were moved to deep pity.
+
+"Look at that old man with the white beard!" Nance exclaimed. "Why, he
+can hardly walk, and that young man by his side is supporting him and
+helping him along. They must be father and son."
+
+She had barely finished speaking when the old man fell heavily forward.
+With a cry that could be heard within the cabin, the young man knelt by
+his side, and endeavoured to lift him to his feet. No one stopped to
+help him, but all brushed by and hurried on. The gold was ahead, and
+they must not delay. They had witnessed numerous cases such as this
+since leaving the great river, one hundred and forty miles away, and
+their hearts had become hardened to such sights.
+
+With the watchers in the cabin, however, it was different. No sooner had
+the man fallen than Martin bounded across the room, flung open the door,
+and hurried out into the open. The young man was astonished to see aid
+in the form of a white man emerge from a building, which he had supposed
+contained only natives. "Come," Martin ordered, "give me a hand, and
+we'll carry him up to the house."
+
+Lifting the helpless man in their arms, they bore him swiftly and gently
+up the slope. Nance was standing holding open the door as they drew
+near, and when the sufferer had been laid upon Martin's cot she came
+close and stood by his side. She noted how worn and haggard was the
+man's face, while his eyes shone with an unnatural light. His hair was
+white and long, and his beard fell in profusion upon his breast. He was
+a powerfully-built man, and the cot upon which he was lying was too
+short for him. He kept tossing his arms wildly about, and made several
+attempts to rise, but always fell back panting heavily after each
+exertion.
+
+"I must get there!" he cried. "Don't stop me! The rest will be ahead of
+me. Fer God's sake, let me go!"
+
+At these words the young man bent over him, and placed his right hand
+upon his arm.
+
+"Hush, hush, Tom," he commanded. "Everything will be all right. Be quiet
+and rest a while."
+
+The vacant expression in the old man's eyes suddenly cleared, and he
+looked eagerly up.
+
+"Is it much farther, pard?" he asked. "Are we almost there?"
+
+The young man turned inquiringly to Martin standing near.
+
+"Can you answer him?" he asked.
+
+"It's not far," Martin replied. "But it's too far for this man in his
+present condition."
+
+"Is there anything there?" the young man asked. "Is the ground rich?"
+
+"Rich! There's gold everywhere. The ground is full of it."
+
+The old man heard these words, and attempted to rise.
+
+"Help me up," he cried. "I must go! D'ye hear what he says? The ground
+is full of gold. Give me yer hand, pard, an' help me out of this."
+
+"No, no, Tom; you can't; you're not able," the young man insisted,
+pushing him gently back.
+
+"I can't! Why can't I? Why should I stay here an' let the others get all
+the gold? I've been rustlin' fer gold all me life, an' d'ye think I'll
+be baulked when it's so near? Let me up, I say."
+
+"But you know, Tom, it's impossible," the young man urged. "You're all
+in. You should never have come on this trip at all."
+
+"I shouldn't! Why shouldn't I? I'm not a baby."
+
+"But think how sick you were at Rapid City. Why, man, you got out of bed
+to come, and would listen to no advice. It's a wonder to me that you're
+not dead. What kept you up for days on that trail is more than I can
+understand."
+
+"It was the gold that did it, ha, ha," and the old man's eyes glowed
+with the intense light of the enthusiast. "Yes, the gold'll cure all
+sickness in my body. It always has. Didn't dozens of chaps play right
+out, while I came through? Yes, an' by God, I'll go on, too, an' won't
+be stuck here. I'll stake my claim with the rest. I've never been
+beaten, an' won't now!"
+
+"Now, look here, Tom. Don't you worry about that claim you hope to
+stake. I'll stake it for you, so it will be all right."
+
+"But you can't stake two, pard."
+
+"No, and I don't intend to try. I didn't come here to stake a claim. But
+as you are not able to do it, there's nothing else for me to do but take
+your place, see?"
+
+"But----"
+
+"There, that will do, Tom," and the young man's voice was firm; "I won't
+listen to anything more. You can't go, that's certain, and I won't help
+you. I'm going in your place. You stay here, keep quiet, and don't
+worry. I will come back as soon as I can, and report."
+
+The young man turned away from the cot, and as he did so he caught sight
+of Nance near the fire-place. He had not noticed her before so much
+taken up had he been with his stricken companion. But now he stood
+looking with wonder at the woman before him. The table was set ready for
+breakfast. The cloth was spotless, and the dishes were all neatly
+arranged. Nance had just stooped to lift the tea-pot, where it was
+warming before the coals, as the young man turned and saw her. The light
+of the fire brought into clear relief her graceful figure, adding at the
+same time a charm to her face and well-poised head such as he had never
+seen before. He stood spellbound for a few seconds, wondering where she
+could have dropped from. He had never expected to find such a beautiful
+being in this wilderness region. He even passed his hand across his eyes
+to make sure that it was not a vision which would immediately vanish.
+Then he glanced around the room, and was still further surprised at the
+books so neatly arranged against the wall. He longed to cross over and
+examine them, as he was hungry for reading matter of any kind.
+
+As he stood thus Martin approached.
+
+"Come, young man," he remarked; "you must have something to eat before
+you start up river. Breakfast is all ready, so if you care to put up
+with our humble fare, you are more than welcome."
+
+The man addressed turned a pair of grateful brown eyes upon Martin's
+face.
+
+"Humble, do you say!" he replied with a laugh. "Do you call that humble,
+sir? Why, I have not seen anything half so good as that steak for
+months. And as for bread, I don't know when I have tasted a scrap.
+Hard-tack, and mighty little of that, has been the nearest I have had to
+bread since last year. And as to sitting down to a table with a white
+cloth upon it, and such dishes as you have here, is most unusual in this
+country. Why, this is a palace. It is certainly good of you to invite me
+to such a feast as this, for I am very hungry. But with your permission
+I shall feed Tom first, for he is about starved."
+
+Martin liked the appearance and the voice of the stranger. He had such
+an honest face, almost boyish in appearance. His eyes were expressive of
+sympathy and fun. His tall, erect figure was clad in a rough buckskin
+suit, a belt encircled his waist, while his feet were encased in the
+rough miner's boots laced halfway to the knees. Over his right shoulder
+extended a strap, supporting at his side a black leather case.
+
+"Pardon me," Martin remarked, suddenly realising his position as host;
+"this is my--my daughter, Nance, Nance Rutland. I fear I have been
+neglecting my duty."
+
+The young man at once stepped forward, and held out his hand.
+
+"This is certainly more than I expected, Miss Rutland," he replied. "I
+had no idea that there was such a house as this out here. It is a great
+treat to meet a white woman, especially," he continued with a smile,
+"when one is starving. I have been doing my own cooking for months, and
+am thoroughly tired of it."
+
+"You had better wait until you know what my cooking is like," Nance
+replied, as she took her place at the head of the table.
+
+She tried to be calm, but her heart kept beating very fast, and she knew
+that her cheeks were flushed more than they should be. She instinctively
+felt that this stranger was a gentleman, and she wished to do what was
+proper in his presence, and not seem confused. But her hand trembled as
+she poured the tea, and she could not trust herself to speak lest she
+should make some foolish blunder. She tried to imagine how Beryl would
+act on such an occasion, and what she would say.
+
+There was little need for words, however, on her part. Martin and the
+stranger talked, so she was content to listen. The young man told about
+his own experience and that of the others on their wild stampede into
+the Quaska valley. He drew a pathetic picture of the hardships and
+sufferings which were endured, and how many became discouraged and
+turned back. He told of the humorous side as well, and related several
+stories of an amusing nature.
+
+"If I were only an artist," he concluded, "or if I had a camera along, I
+should have been able to obtain some excellent pictures."
+
+"I thought that black case contained a camera," Martin replied. "I am
+quite relieved, for I was afraid lest you should snap our cabin and
+force Nance and me to undergo the same ordeal."
+
+"Nothing would please me better," the visitor laughed, glancing toward
+Nance. "But it's not as serious as that. It's only a simple medical case
+I always carry with me. I've had to use it quite often since leaving
+Rapid City."
+
+"You're a medical man, then--a doctor," Martin returned.
+
+"I suppose I am, and back at old McGill I'm recorded as an M.D., and the
+men will persist in calling me 'Doc.' But I like to be called just
+'Dick,' without any handle. Dick Russell is my name, by the way. 'Mr.'
+and 'Doctor' make one feel so old, but just Dick sounds fine to my ears.
+But, say," he added in a lower voice, "you won't mind looking after Tom,
+will you? He's all gold, but knocked out just now. He's a character all
+by himself, true as steel, and full of fun. He's been the life of the
+camp down river all winter. I must be off now, but would you let me
+sleep here on the floor to-night if I should come back?"
+
+"Sure," Martin replied. "You're welcome to the best we have, and you'll
+need it, too, I'm thinking."
+
+Telling Tom to keep up courage, and with a good-by and a wave of the
+hand to Martin and Nance standing at the door, the young man swung away
+from the cabin toward the trail, leading along the Quaska River.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE SUPPLANTER
+
+
+Nance stood for a while in the doorway, and watched the retreating form
+of Dick Russell as it disappeared among the trees. She then turned back
+into the room, while Martin went off to cut some wood for the fire. The
+house seemed very lonely now to Nance and strangely silent. It had never
+appeared so before, and Nance could not understand the reason. She went
+about her work of washing the dishes and looking after the room, but her
+thoughts were elsewhere. Her mind dwelt continually upon the stranger
+who had come so suddenly into her life. She wondered who he was, and
+what he was doing in the country. He did not come to stake a claim for
+himself, so she had heard him say. What, then, was his purpose in making
+the journey over such a terrible trail at this season of the year? She
+longed to talk the matter over with Martin when he came in with the
+wood, but for the first time in her young life she found it most
+difficult to confide in the man who had done so much for her. Several
+times during the morning she was on the point of speaking, but on each
+occasion her lips refused to fashion the words, and she became so
+confused that she was certain Martin would notice her flushed cheeks.
+
+And Martin did notice, although he said nothing. He observed Nance's
+quiet and preoccupied manner, which was so different from her bright and
+buoyant disposition. He partly surmised the cause, and it pressed
+heavily like a great weight upon his heart. He understood how natural it
+was that Nance, who had never met white men before, should consider this
+stranger in the light of a hero. He knew how impulsive was her nature,
+and how ready was her heart to respond to the call of love. Had she been
+brought up to the ways of the busy world, and had met people of her own
+age and race, she would, like other maidens of her years, not have been
+so stirred by the presence of this stranger. But no one had ever told
+her about the subtle ways of the heart. She was a child of the
+wilderness, brought up to live and commune with nature. Martin had
+taught her book knowledge and much about the things of the civilised
+world. But of the deep passions of the heart he had been silent, and
+Nance, though now a woman in years, was in many ways but a mere child.
+
+Martin thought of these things now as he had never done before. Nance
+was all that he had in the world, and he had fondly cherished the idea
+that she would always be with him to care for him and to love him. But
+now he realised that he was to be supplanted, and by a stranger at that,
+a mere stripling, whom Nance had seen for only one hour. It was but
+natural that a spirit of resentment should rise in his heart as he
+thought of these things.
+
+All through the morning, and for most of the afternoon, Tom, the
+white-haired and long-bearded old man, slept upon the cot. It was a
+sound, natural sleep, and at times Nance went over and stood by his
+side. His face strongly appealed to her. Lines of care furrowed his
+brow, and his cheeks were very wan. Occasionally as she watched him a
+smile would play about the corners of his mouth as if his dreams were
+pleasant. Nance wondered if he had any one who thought of him in love,
+and whom he loved in return.
+
+Toward evening the old man opened his eyes, and saw Nance standing by
+his side. He started up in surprise.
+
+"Nell, Nell, is that you?" he demanded.
+
+Then seeing the look of astonishment upon Nance's face, he sank back
+upon the pillow, while a deep sigh escaped his lips.
+
+"Fergive me, Miss," he said. "I had sich a beautiful dream, an' when I
+opened my eyes an' saw you a-standin' there I was sure it was my Nell."
+
+"Would you like to see her?" Nance asked. "Would you like for her to be
+standing by your side now? How you must miss her."
+
+"I do, I do," was the emphatic reply. "God alone knows how I long fer
+her!"
+
+"Can't you go to her, then? Or why doesn't she come to you?"
+
+"That can't be, Miss. It's been twenty years since she left me, an' I've
+been wanderin' ever since. I laid her in the little churchyard way back
+East, an' I haven't seen the spot since. But I see her in a way, an'
+that's all I can expect on this earth now. She's ever with me day an'
+night. Out in the hills she's by my side, an' I often talk to her jist
+like I used to do years ago, an' it's very comfortin'."
+
+"W-was she your daughter?" Nance queried.
+
+"No, Miss. She was my wife."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes," the old man continued after a pause, "she was my wife, an' we'd
+been married scarce one year when she left me."
+
+"Poor man!" Nance soothed. "How hard it must have been for you. You have
+no home, then, and no one to love you?"
+
+"Well, I can't altogether say that, Miss. My home is wherever night
+overtakes me, but it's seldom in sich a comfortable place as this. I've
+friends a plenty, but no one to care fer me jist like Nell used to do. I
+can't expect it. People have about as much as they can do to look after
+themselves without botherin' about an old man who has one foot in the
+grave."
+
+"But you must get very sad and lonely at times," Nance remarked.
+
+"I do, Miss; I certainly do."
+
+"How do you keep so cheerful, then?"
+
+"How d'ye know that I keep cheerful?" and Tom looked his surprise.
+
+"Oh, that man who came with you told us that you were the life of the
+camp at Rapid City last winter."
+
+"Did Dick really say that, Miss? An' did he tell ye anything about
+himself?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, that's jist like 'im. But I'll tell ye some day. It's gittin' on
+toward night now, isn't it, Miss? I think I'll git up and sit by yon
+bright fire fer a while, an' have a smoke. Dick should be back soon."
+
+"Do you feel better?" Nance asked.
+
+"Feel fine. That deep was jist what I needed."
+
+"I am so glad," and Nance's eyes beamed with happiness. "I shall get you
+something to eat at once, for you must be very hungry. Daddy will be
+home soon, and he will want his supper, too."
+
+"I am hungry, Miss, fer I haven't had a good square meal since I left
+the river."
+
+Ensconced in Martin's big chair to the right of the fire, the old man
+leaned back and puffed away at his blackened pipe, at the same time
+keeping his eyes upon Nance as she moved quietly about the room.
+
+"Ye do remind me of my Nell," he at length remarked, taking the pipe
+from his mouth and blowing a great volume of smoke into the air. "She
+was about your size, an' fixed up her hair in the same way. I remember
+how I used to sit by the fire, jist as I am now, when the day's work was
+done, an' watch her gittin' supper. This certainly does remind me of old
+times."
+
+"How happy you must have been," Nance replied. "Have you been in this
+northern country ever since?"
+
+"Ah, no. I've travelled over many parts, but I like this the best."
+
+"I suppose it's the gold which keeps you here. I should think that it
+would be nicer outside where you would meet more people, and life would
+not be so hard."
+
+"So it would be, Miss. I would like to be near the place where my Nell
+is lyin'. But one needs the gold to live there, an' as soon as I git it
+I'm a-goin' to hike back. But there, I don't know as if the gold'll make
+me any happier. It's the searchin' fer it, an' the findin' it, that
+gives the pleasure."
+
+"It must be nice outside," Nance remarked. "I have heard so much about
+the many things there that I should like to see them."
+
+"Have ye never been outside, Miss?" Tom asked in surprise.
+
+"No, I've lived all my life in the wilderness."
+
+"What! Ye don't say so! Well, I declare! If that don't beat all!"
+
+Just then the door opened, and Martin entered.
+
+"I'm glad to see you sitting up," he began, coming close to Tom. "How
+are you feeling now?"
+
+"Great. Never felt better in me life. An' why shouldn't I with sich
+comforts as a good fire, my pipe, an' yer sweet daughter to talk to me
+an' wait upon me? We've been havin' a fine time together."
+
+"That's good," Martin returned. "But I think that supper will make you
+feel better still. We can have a pipe together afterwards. It's been a
+long time since I've had any one to smoke with except the Indians."
+
+They were partly through with the meal when Dick returned. He looked
+very tired, although his voice was cheery as he greeted his companion of
+the trail.
+
+"It's good to see you sitting there, Tom," he said, as he took the seat
+Nance had placed for him.
+
+"It's the lassie who has done the trick, pard," and Tom jerked his head
+toward Nance. "She's the cause of my sudden return to health."
+
+Nance's face flushed, not so much because of Tom's words as from the
+eyes of the young man, which were turned upon her with gratitude.
+
+"Oh, I haven't done anything," she replied, as she poured out a cup of
+steaming tea for Dick. "It was the sleep that did it."
+
+"Only partly, Miss; only partly," Tom rejoined. "Sleep an' food don't do
+everything toward makin' one feel that life is worth livin'. Ah, no. An
+old man like me knows a thing or two. But say," and he turned suddenly
+toward the young man across the table, "how did ye make out up stream,
+pard?"
+
+An anxious expression came into Dick Russell's eyes. This passed almost
+instantly, however, although it did not escape Tom's searching look.
+
+"I got along fairly well, and staked a claim at the very edge of some
+old diggings I found there. How the rest happened to overlook the place
+I cannot understand. But they are about crazy and hardly know what they
+are doing."
+
+"Are they camping up there to-night?" Martin asked.
+
+"I can't say that they are camping. They are there for the night, that's
+sure. But they've been rushing about like mad ever since they reached
+the place. They will spend the night on the ground just as they have
+been doing since leaving Rapid City. But their grub is about all gone.
+If they don't get some from the Indians they'll be in a bad fix."
+
+"Dear me!" Tom murmured.
+
+"The Indians can't help them much," Martin explained. "They are living
+from hand to mouth themselves now. They generally are at this time of
+the year."
+
+"We could give them something to eat, couldn't we, daddy?" and Nance
+looked over at her father.
+
+"Yes, I suppose we could give them something," was the reluctant reply.
+"But we haven't enough for a crowd of hungry men."
+
+"Oh, they'll make out all right," Dick hastened to explain. "They don't
+know to-night what they are eating. Hard-tack and roast turkey would be
+about the same thing to them. When I left they were sitting about a
+great blazing fire, munching the scraps of food they had left. They are
+clean daft over the discovery of that gold. I have been chuckling to
+myself ever since I left them over what they were saying. They are
+already planning what they are to do with the gold when they get it. One
+intends to buy a ranch, and keep, I don't know how many, horses and
+cattle. Another will tour the world. Some have decided to go back to the
+big cities to live in fine houses they expect to build. But Dobson,
+generally known as 'Whiskey Jack,' is going on a big spree just as soon
+as he gets outside."
+
+"Yes, yes, they'll all follow Jack's example, I'm afraid," Tom sadly
+replied. "I know their kind only too well. They always plan big things,
+but as a rule they lose it all in whiskey, gambling, and----But there,"
+he suddenly broke off, "it has always been so, an' what's the use of us
+worryin' about it?"
+
+"But some one must worry, Tom," was Dick's emphatic reply. "Too many say
+the same thing. But I know better. I never saw a finer lot of men in my
+life. They are rough at times, I know. There are a few who gave us
+trouble last winter, but most of them were good fellows at Rapid City,
+and you know it."
+
+"Sure thing, pard, sure thing. I'm not denyin' that. But I guess it was
+you who kept them straight, an' made them show up their best side."
+
+"What about yourself, Tom? You had a big hand in the whole affair, if I
+am not much mistaken."
+
+Supper ended, Nance began to clear away the dishes. Martin and Tom
+brought forth their pipes and sat down before the fire for a comfortable
+chat.
+
+"You men smoke away to your hearts' content," Dick laughed. "I'm going
+to help with the dishes, that is, if I may," and he turned to Nance.
+
+"No, no, please," the latter hurriedly replied. "I can do them quickly,
+so don't you bother about them."
+
+"It's no bother, I assure you. But, say, what shall I call you?"
+
+"Nance, just Nance," was the reply.
+
+"But I must not call you that. It wouldn't be right for a stranger to
+call you that. Wouldn't 'Miss Rutland' sound better?"
+
+"No. Please call me Nance. I like it better, and I have never been
+called anything else."
+
+"Very well, then, Nance," Dick laughed, as he began to clear away the
+dishes. "I am not going to see you doing all the work while three men
+sit lazily before the fire. It wouldn't be fair."
+
+"But I would rather----"
+
+"Let him alone, Miss," Tom interrupted. "He's a good hand at sich
+things, an' he'll enjoy the job. He can't be still fer two minutes at a
+time."
+
+Thus while Martin and Tom smoked and talked the two young people looked
+after the dishes. Dick did most of the talking. He told Nance about his
+experiences at Rapid City during the past winter. At some of his stories
+Nance laughed heartily, especially when he told of the dogs stealing his
+supper one night.
+
+"It wasn't very funny then, I assure you," Dick explained. "But perhaps
+the poor dogs needed the food more than I did."
+
+By the time the dishes were washed, wiped, and put away, Dick and Nance
+were firm friends, and somewhat reluctantly they joined the others
+before the fire.
+
+"May I have a look at your books, sir?" Dick asked, turning to Martin.
+"I've had my eyes upon them all the evening."
+
+"Not upon the books alone, eh, pard?" Tom chuckled.
+
+"Look at them to your heart's content," Martin replied. "My library is
+very small, and I am afraid you will find but little there to interest
+you."
+
+Dick soon returned, bringing with him three small books.
+
+"I've made a strike to-night," he exclaimed, "which is of more interest
+to me than the gold of the Quaska. Just think, here I have Hazlitt's
+'Table Talk,' Emerson's 'Essays,' and Carlyle's 'Heroes and Hero
+Worship.' I didn't know that there were such books as these anywhere in
+this country," and he looked curiously toward Martin.
+
+"You know them, then?" the latter queried, his interest now becoming
+much aroused in the young man.
+
+"Know them! I should say I do. But it has been years since I read them,
+and of course I have forgotten much. It will all come back again,
+however, for one never really forgets. May I take Hazlitt with me
+to-morrow? It will be a great comfort, and I shall take good care of
+it."
+
+"Ask Nance," Martin replied. "We are co-partners. You have my consent to
+take the book, but you must get hers as well."
+
+"Have you read these?" Dick asked in surprise, turning toward the young
+woman sitting near by.
+
+"Oh, yes," was the blushing reply. "I have read them all several times,
+and found them so nice."
+
+"Now jist listen to that, pard," Tom spoke up. "There's something like a
+woman fer ye. I don't think ye'd find many young women outside readin'
+sich books. They'd want novels, an' sich like."
+
+"I think I should like novels, too," Nance replied. "I have heard about
+them, and they must be nice."
+
+"You are better off without many of the novels of to-day," Dick
+returned. "Such books as these have done me much good. I read as many as
+I could while at college, but of late years I have had little
+opportunity for reading."
+
+"Did you read such books as these when you were at college?" Martin
+asked. "I was of the opinion that you studied only medical works."
+
+"Oh, I read as widely as possible, especially at Kings, away back East,
+before I went to McGill."
+
+As Dick uttered these words Martin gave a distinct start, and looked
+searchingly into the young man's face. The mention of the former college
+brought to his mind many thoughts. He himself had graduated from the
+same Institution years before, and he knew that it was principally a
+divinity college, where young men were trained for the Ministry.
+
+"And what course did you take there?" he asked as calmly as possible,
+although his heart beat faster than usual.
+
+"I took Arts and studied Divinity," Dick responded.
+
+"Then you are a----?" Martin could not form the word. A strange feeling
+swept upon him. He suddenly recalled the warning of his old bishop,
+especially his closing words, "The Church and her teaching will follow
+you to the grave, no matter to what part of the world you go."
+
+"He's a parson as well as a doctor, that's what he is," Tom explained,
+noticing his host's hesitation.
+
+Martin rose suddenly to his feet, picked up his hat, and silently left
+the building. Once outside he stood as if uncertain what course to
+pursue. Then he paced rapidly up and down before the house. His brain
+throbbed and beat with wild emotions. "And has it come to this?" he
+asked himself. "I have taken in a minion of the Church; I have allowed
+him to enter my cabin and break bread with me. Had I known who he was he
+should never have crossed the threshold. And he has won Nance's heart
+and supplanted me in her affections. And to think that I have kept her
+hidden away here all of these years, and this is the end! But no, by
+God, it shall not be! I will not lose her! I have fled from the Church,
+and it has followed me into the wilderness, and is about to wrench from
+my grasp the one who is dearer to me than life. It shall not be. No
+longer shall that man remain beneath my roof. He came here under the
+guise of a doctor. Why didn't he say plainly and frankly what he was? He
+seems to be ashamed of his profession."
+
+Seldom had Martin ever allowed himself to be so angry with any one. He
+had always prided himself upon his calmness. But it was the thought of
+this stranger, and a clergyman at that, coming to the place and winning
+Nance's heart which stirred his inmost depths. He stood for a few
+moments looking out across the lake. The perspiration appeared in great
+beads upon his forehead. Presently he heard Dick's hearty laugh, and
+this annoyed him all the more. He would soon stop that. He took a step
+toward the door, but stopped as the sound of violin music fell upon his
+ears. It was Nance playing. Then some one began to sing. It was a clear,
+strong tenor voice, which he recognised as that of the young stranger.
+
+Martin listened for a few moments and then, pushing open the door, he
+entered. No one noticed him as he moved quietly towards the fire. He
+paused in the middle of the room, strangely affected. It was not the
+music which caused him to hesitate and place his hand to his forehead in
+a perplexed manner. It was the expression of supreme happiness depicted
+upon Nance's face which held him spellbound. Her eyes were bright, and
+her cheeks were flushed with pleasure as she drew the bow skilfully
+across the strings.
+
+Martin's anger cooled as he looked upon this peaceful scene. It was a
+striking and a rebuking contrast to the hell in his own heart, and he
+knew it. He moved quietly forward, took his seat to the left of the
+fire, and remained silently there for the rest of the evening. But long
+after the others were wrapped in slumber Martin sat before the dying
+embers, fighting the hardest of all battles--the battle of the heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+SUSPICION
+
+
+Dick Russell rose early the next morning, much refreshed by his sleep.
+But Martin was up ahead of him, and had slipped out of the building
+before any one else was astir. Tom lighted the fire, and proved very
+handy in helping Nance with preparing the breakfast. In an hour's time
+the meal was over. It was a very frugal repast, but what was lacking in
+food was made up in pleasant conversation. Dick thought that Nance
+looked prettier than ever as she sat at the head of the table and poured
+the tea. The men naturally wondered what had become of Martin, but Nance
+informed them that he must have gone to the hills for mountain sheep.
+Their supply of fresh meat was getting low, and it was nothing unusual
+for her father to go off in the early morning hours.
+
+"I must be off, too," Dick remarked, as he rose from the table. "This
+hot sun is breaking up the trail, and it is necessary to get to Rapid
+City as soon as possible to record that claim. You will stay?" and he
+turned to Tom.
+
+"Yes, pard," was the reply. "My old legs are not fit fer sich a trip at
+present. I shall git a cabin fixed up as quick as I can. I haven't much
+to live upon, to be sure, though I've been placed in a far worse
+position many a time before. I'll go down to the cache we left along the
+river an' git my rifle an' some grub. You'll need the rest."
+
+Nance, too, had risen to her feet, and stood looking at the two men. Her
+cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright.
+
+"You will come back, will you not?" she faltered, as Dick took her hand
+to bid her good-bye.
+
+"Just as soon as I can," Dick returned.
+
+"Before the summer?" she queried. "I hope you will, as we are going
+away."
+
+"What!" Dick dropped her hand, and looked intently into her eyes. "Going
+away! Surely you don't mean it!"
+
+"Yes, it is true. We have been planning for some time to go outside, and
+so have everything arranged for this coming summer."
+
+"But you must not go until I return. Promise me that," the young man
+urged.
+
+"It all depends upon my father. I did want to go so much a while ago,
+but now I am not so anxious."
+
+It was with great reluctance that Dick left the house, with Nance
+standing in the doorway, and swung off down the trail, which ran along
+the shore of the lake. Several times he turned and waved his hand to the
+young woman, until a bend in the trail hid her from view.
+
+"She's certainly a fine one," Tom remarked, as he trudged along by
+Dick's side. "It's a great mystery to me; it really is."
+
+"What's a mystery, Tom?" and Dick glanced inquiringly at his companion.
+
+"Why, you know, pard, as well as I do. I can't savvey why that man
+should be livin' here all of these years with that beautiful daughter of
+his. It isn't natural that any one should bury himself like that in sich
+a wilderness as this."
+
+"You're right, Tom," Dick reflected. "He's an educated man, too, which
+makes it all the more mysterious. His books plainly show that. He speaks
+well, and he has taught Nance to play the violin splendidly."
+
+"I felt like askin' him about his life when we were sittin' before the
+fire last night. But he acted so queer at times that I thought it best
+not to do so. Did ye notice how he left us so suddenly, an' when he came
+back he sat glum an' silent in the corner?"
+
+"I did, Tom."
+
+"Now, what would ye make out of that, eh?"
+
+"Nothing. Perhaps it was only his manner. Living so long in the wild is
+enough to make any one odd, don't you think so?"
+
+"It may be as ye say, pard, though it doesn't altogether fill the bill.
+Now, why should a man with a fine edication want to live in sich a place
+as this fer so many years? If it was gold he was after I could somewhat
+savvey it. But he doesn't seem to care anything about the strike. He
+hasn't even staked a claim. There's a mystery somewhere in the
+background, that's certain."
+
+"Do you suppose he knows about the gold up the Quaska?" Dick asked.
+
+"What d'ye mean, pard?"
+
+"Didn't I tell you about the big holes which had been dug up there? I
+staked your claim right next to them. Now, suppose that Martin did the
+digging, and has taken out more than he needs, eh?"
+
+"Not on yer life, pard. If he had the gold he'd 'a' hiked out of the
+country long afore this."
+
+"But who dug those holes, then?" Dick insisted.
+
+"I can't say fer certain. The Rooshians may have done it. They were
+pokin' around this country years ago. I have found holes in many places
+that they have dug."
+
+"But surely Martin must have known about those holes, Tom. He has hunted
+all over this region. But, then, perhaps he wasn't after the gold. He
+has a very neat cabin at any rate, which is so comfortable."
+
+"Who wouldn't be comfortable with sich a house an' sich a daughter to
+look after it, tell me that. She's about the finest specimen of
+womankind I have ever set my eyes on, an' that's sayin' a good deal.
+What a pity that she's been hid away so long in a lonely spot like
+this."
+
+Dick made no reply to these words, but all the way along the trail,
+after Tom had left him, he thought of Nance. To him the Quaska valley
+had a new fascination now. He had come into the country with the special
+object of carrying on his Great Master's work, lengthening the cords and
+strengthening the stakes of the Church. As a medical man, as well as a
+missionary, he had done much good among the men in the various camps.
+This stampede into the Quaska valley had opened to him another door of
+usefulness. He had gone with the men, not for the sake of gold, but for
+the assistance he might be able to give. This new region had always
+seemed to him a very desolate place. But now all had been changed since
+he had found Nance. Almost unconsciously he began to repeat to himself
+one of his favourite and inspiring verses of Scripture. Only now he
+applied the words in a different sense. "The wilderness and the solitary
+places," he murmured, "shall be glad for _her_, and the desert shall
+rejoice and blossom as the rose."
+
+Her image was thus ever before him as he toiled over the weary trail. He
+thought of her by day, and dreamed of her at night, as he lay alone upon
+his bed of fir boughs with the stars twinkling overhead. He was several
+hours in advance of the rest of the men, and he was glad that such was
+the case. He wished to be alone with the new happiness which had come so
+suddenly into his life. Never before had any one impressed him as did
+Nance. He had met many beautiful and clever women, but not one had ever
+appealed to him as had this woman by the shore of the Klutana Lake.
+
+He was anxious to hurry down to Rapid City, record the claim, and make
+ready to return up river as soon as the ice ran out of the stream. That
+this would not be long he was well aware, for the hot sun was making
+havoc with the ice, and the water was rising fast. The trail was
+abominable, but he did not seem to mind it now. A new spirit filled his
+soul and animated his whole being. His one great desire was to get back
+to the little cabin in the wilderness before Nance and her father should
+leave.
+
+After several days of hard travelling, Dick reached Rapid City. He was
+very tired and hungry when he reached the place, but the first thing
+that he did was to record the claim he had staked in Tom Hendrick's
+name. That night all the men in the mining town came to his cabin,
+anxious to learn all they could about the prospects of the new
+"diggings."
+
+"What about the old man who lives out there?" Sam Pelchie after a while
+asked.
+
+"Where did you get your knowledge, Sam?" and Dick looked at him in
+surprise. "I haven't told you a word about him."
+
+But the other only laughed, and tipped a wink to Dave Purvis, who
+grinned in return. Dick was about to tell what he knew about Martin when
+the action of these men caused him to hesitate.
+
+Of all the miners at Rapid City these two had been the most troublesome
+during the past winter. They were noted for their laziness, and but for
+the good-heartedness of others they would have starved. They seldom did
+any hunting for their support. They were disliked by the men of Rapid
+City, but, as is so often the rule in a frontier camp, they received a
+share of all that was going. The sense of shame in living as parasites
+did not bother them in the least. Dick always managed to get along
+fairly well with "The Twins," as they were commonly called, although he
+believed them to be veritable scoundrels, who would turn against their
+best friends upon the least pretext.
+
+Nothing more was said on this occasion about Martin, and so the
+conversation drifted off to the gold of the Quaska. But Dick determined
+to keep his eyes upon Pelchie and Purvis. He intended to keep his ears
+open as well in an effort to learn how they happened to know that Martin
+lived up river. He knew that they did not hear of him from the two
+prospectors who had made the discovery, as they had reported that only
+Indians lived up there. These men had already returned to the Quaska
+valley. Taku had gone with them, his dogs drawing a supply of
+provisions.
+
+Dick went to bed that night wondering what The Twins meant by the winks
+they had passed to each other, and their mysterious manner. A sudden
+thought came into his mind, which caused him to toss to and fro, tired
+though he was. Was it possible that Pelchie and Purvis had heard about
+Nance and her remarkable beauty? He knew from what the men had said on
+former occasions that they had very little respect for women. In a land
+such as this where might was right, what chance would a beautiful young
+woman, innocent as a child, have against wily minions of Satan? What
+else, he asked himself, would make The Twins take such an interest in
+Martin? At length he fell into a troubled sleep, and dreamed that Nance
+was beset by cruel and terrible dragons, and that he was unable to go to
+her assistance.
+
+Early the next morning a band of weary stampeders reached Rapid City,
+and recorded their claims. After breakfast Dick went over to the store,
+where he found a crowd of men gathered. Upon a small table in the middle
+of the room was a rough map, sketched with the point of a burnt stick,
+showing the new diggings. Around this most of the men were clustered,
+discussing it in a most animated manner. Small numbers marked the places
+where the stampeders had staked their claims. The old holes formed the
+boundary line of the valley, and the claims were marked "above" or
+"below," according to their situation.
+
+"Where is the old man's cabin?" Pelchie asked, leaning over for a better
+view.
+
+"At the mouth of the river," Ben Haines replied, "right there," and he
+made a small cross upon the paper.
+
+"Did he stake?" Pelchie further queried.
+
+"No. Takes no interest in the discovery. He's a strange one; lives alone
+with his daughter, and just hunts for his living. But he was mighty good
+to us, and handed out about the whole of his grub. His daughter is
+certainly a beauty. You should have seen her eyes fill with tears when
+we carried poor old 'Dad' into the cabin, sick as a dog, and moaning
+like a baby. He was clean cracked when we left him, but that girl was
+nursing him like a mother. You missed something, Sam, by not being along
+with us. Why in hell didn't you and Dave go on the stampede?"
+
+"Had other business, Ben, hey, Dave?" and he winked to his partner.
+
+"Sure thing," was the reply. "We've never seen the Quaska, but I'll
+gamble that we'll take out more gold from that place than any of you."
+
+A laugh went up from the men in the room. They knew The Twins and what
+bluffing they always did. This last remark was most characteristic.
+
+"You'll have to get a hustle on if you intend to stake," Barry Dane
+spoke up. "The _Northern Packet_ will be here as soon as the river
+clears, and I wouldn't be surprised if a big crowd comes on her. We're
+going to get her to go right up to the lake. There's bound to be a
+lively bunch there this summer, so you'd better make a move at once if
+you're going to do anything. We're not going to keep you again as we did
+last winter, I can tell you that."
+
+"Don't you worry," Dave surlily replied. "We'll make your eyes stick out
+before the summer's over, never fear. I don't care for any d---- crowd
+which comes on the _Packet_."
+
+Dick Russell said nothing to any of the men about the thoughts which
+were troubling him. As the days passed he endeavoured to learn something
+of the plans of Pelchie and Purvis, but in vain. He saw them at times
+together, talking in a most confidential way, and knew that they were
+often in each other's cabins. He believed that Martin, and perhaps
+Nance, formed the chief topic of their conversation, and his heart grew
+heavy as he thought of what the future might reveal. He awaited
+anxiously for the river to clear, and the steamer to arrive, that he
+might hurry up stream, not for gold, but to see Nance and, if necessary,
+to protect her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY
+
+
+It was not long after Dick and Tom had left Martin's cabin that the
+stampeders arrived. They were in good spirits, but very hungry, having
+eaten the last of their meal the previous evening. Nance was washing the
+breakfast dishes and thinking of Dick, when she was startled by the
+appearance of several men at the door. They doffed their caps when they
+saw the young woman, and asked if they might have something to eat.
+
+"We are sorry to disturb you, Miss," Barry Dane explained, acting as
+spokesman, "but we're down to hard-pan. We've not had a bite to eat
+since last night, and there's a long trail ahead of us."
+
+"Come right in," Nance replied. "We haven't much ourselves, but I know
+that my father will be pleased to share with you."
+
+While the men seated themselves about the room, Nance went to the
+larder, and brought forth a large piece of moose meat. From this she cut
+off numerous slices, and then began to fry several of them over the
+fire.
+
+"Let me help you, Miss," Barry volunteered. "I am fairly handy at such
+work, and it isn't right that you should cook for us lazy louts."
+
+"Well, then, you can attend to this while I look after the table," and
+Nance handed him the frying-pan.
+
+Each man had with him his meagre supply of dishes, and ere long all were
+enjoying the meat, as well as the tea, which Nance had prepared. These
+men treated their young hostess with the greatest courtesy. Not a rough
+word was spoken, and it was somewhat pathetic to observe the manner in
+which several of them endeavoured to assume an air of gentility. They
+were true knights, this body of men, rough outwardly, but possessed of
+big, loyal hearts.
+
+They were almost through with their meal when Martin arrived, bringing
+with him an old man, who tottered as he walked. He had wide-staring
+eyes, and was continually muttering to himself. The stampeders rose to
+their feet in surprise as they recognised 'Dad' Seddon, whom they had
+left up the Quaska that morning. He had refused to come with them,
+saying that he would follow later and overtake them.
+
+"What's happened to Dad?" was Barry Dane's first question. "He seems to
+be all in."
+
+"He certainly is," Martin replied. "I found him up stream down on his
+knees, clawing at the ground, and jabbering away at a great rate. He's
+gold mad, that's what's the trouble with him. Come, Nance," and he
+turned toward her; "a piece of that meat and a cup of tea will do him
+much good."
+
+Nance had been staring hard at the pathetic figure of the old man. He
+looked so frail and helpless that her eyes filled with tears as she
+watched him.
+
+"Say, Dad, what's wrong with you?" Barry asked, stepping over to Seddon,
+and laying a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
+
+But the poor creature simply stared, and continued his muttering as
+before. He ate ravenously the food Nance brought him, and gulped down a
+cup of tea.
+
+"What are we to do with him?" Jim Lane asked. "We can't take him with
+us, that's sure."
+
+"Leave him here," Martin replied. "We will look after him as well as we
+can. I think he'll be all right after he has had a good sleep."
+
+"It's kind of you, sir," Barry remarked, "and we won't forget it. We
+have a long trail ahead of us and could hardly manage Dad. And, besides,
+we've no grub until we strike our cache down stream. Could you let us
+have some meat?"
+
+"I think we can," and Martin crossed over to the larder as he spoke. "We
+have a little meat and a small supply of smoked fish. We can spare some,
+eh, Nance?"
+
+"Yes," Nance replied. "We can get along very well, as we shall soon have
+fresh fish from the lake."
+
+"Thank ye kindly," several of the men responded. "We certainly won't
+forget what ye've done for us to-day."
+
+In about half an hour they had left the cabin, and were swinging off
+down the trail. They met Tom a short distance from the house, and to him
+they imparted the news about Dad.
+
+"I'll look after the poor chap," Tom said. "He'll be all right in a
+short time, never fear."
+
+When he reached the house he found Dad tucked in bed. The half-crazed
+man had objected at first, but at last had yielded to Nance. Her words
+and the touch of her hand upon his greatly soothed his excited state of
+mind, so in a short time he was sleeping soundly.
+
+"It's jist what he needs," Tom explained, as he looked upon him. "He's
+slept hardly a wink since startin' upon this stampede. That an' the want
+of food, together with the thought of the gold, has somewhat upset the
+machinery of his head. Oh, I've seen sich cases afore. He's a fine one,
+is old Dad, true as steel to his friends, rather cranky at times, an' a
+regular devil to any one who tries any crooked business upon him. I
+always got along well with the old chap. In fact we were quite chums
+last winter. He's great at chess, an' we used to play it most every
+night. He's got a set of chessmen he made durin' the long winter
+evenin's out of ivory from the tusk of an old mastodon we found on a
+little creek some time ago. He's mighty proud of them, I can tell you
+that, an' if we can git his mind off of the gold fer a while an' turn it
+on to chess, it might do him a world of good."
+
+"Why, chess is one of our games," Nance replied. "Daddy taught it to me
+a long time ago, and he, too, made all the pieces himself, out of wood."
+
+"Well, I declare!" and Tom looked his surprise. "To think of you playin'
+sich a deep, solemn game as that! I don't believe that ye'd find many
+young women outside spendin' their time in sich a way, ah, no. They're
+too lightheaded an' giddy fer that. It certainly'll be a great comfort
+to old Dad when he sees yer chessmen. He'll keep ye at it all the time.
+He'd 'a' played night an' day last winter if any one would have played
+with 'im. You will surely be all right in his eyes when he wakes an' I
+tell 'im the news."
+
+"You had better be careful," Martin laughed. "Nance might not be able to
+do anything else if Dad gets hold of her. I might lose my housekeeper."
+
+"Ye're bound to lose her sooner or later, anyway," and Tom winked at
+Nance, as he drew forth his pipe and tobacco from his pocket.
+
+At these words Martin's face darkened, and he straightened himself up
+with a sudden jerk. His lips moved as if he were about to speak, but not
+a sound did he utter. He looked Tom full in the face for a few seconds,
+and then turning walked towards the door. He paused upon the threshold,
+and glanced around upon the prospector.
+
+"You look after him until I return," and he motioned towards Dad. "I
+brought down a sheep this morning, but left its carcass up the valley in
+order to bring in the old man."
+
+"Let me go," Tom hastened to reply. "It isn't fair that you should do
+all the work."
+
+"No, thank you, I shall go myself. You wouldn't know where to find it."
+With that he was off, leaving Tom much puzzled over his peculiar manner.
+
+The prospector seated himself upon a stool, and deliberately filled his
+pipe. When it was lighted and drawing to his satisfaction, he turned
+toward Nance, who was putting away the dishes she had just wiped.
+
+"Yer father seems worried over something," he began. "I wonder what is
+the matter."
+
+Nance paused in her work and looked intently upon the old prospector's
+honest, rugged face. She, too, had noticed Martin's strange behaviour of
+late, and she longed to unburden her mind to some one. She felt that in
+Tom she would have a sympathetic listener, and that he would keep her
+confidence as a sacred trust. She, accordingly, left her work and sat
+down upon a bench at the side of the table.
+
+"My father," she began, "has only acted in this strange manner since you
+arrived. He was never like that before. Did you notice how he left so
+suddenly last night, and when he came back he didn't talk at all?"
+
+"I did; I certainly did, Miss," Tom assented. "Some words which my
+pardner let drop seemed to upset 'im completely. I wonder--I wonder," he
+mused, half to himself, "if he is afraid of Dick. It may be that. He's
+mighty taken with you, Miss, is Dick, an' it might be that yer father
+fears that he'll lose ye."
+
+A flush suffused Nance's cheeks, and her eyes dropped. Was this, then,
+the reason of her father's strange actions? she asked herself.
+
+"When d'ye expect to leave, Miss?" Tom suddenly queried.
+
+"Leave!" Nance gave a little startled laugh. "I cannot tell now when we
+shall leave."
+
+"An' d'ye expect to come back some day?"
+
+"It is hardly likely. This place will be too busy for my father. He
+would never return, I feel quite sure of that."
+
+"Have ye really lived up here all yer life, Miss?"
+
+"Yes, all my life. My father and mother were drowned on the Mackenzie
+River when I was a little child, and so----"
+
+"What's that ye tell me?" Tom interrupted in astonishment. "Isn't Martin
+yer father, then?"
+
+"Oh, no. He happened along with several other men, and took me from the
+Indians, who would have kept me, and brought me to this place."
+
+"Good Lord!" broke from the prospector's lips. "But go on, Miss."
+
+"There's nothing more to tell except that we've lived here ever since."
+
+"But what in the world kept yer father--I mean Martin--in sich a place
+as this? Didn't he ever tell ye?"
+
+"No. I haven't the least idea. I have often thought about it, but father
+never told me."
+
+"Well, I declare!" and Tom scratched his head in perplexity. "But what
+is his other name besides Martin?"
+
+"It's Rutland," Nance replied, "and he lived, so he told me, somewhere
+back in Eastern Canada before he came here. That is all I know."
+
+Tom sat for some time lost in deep thought, while Nance went back to her
+work. "Martin Rutland," he mused; "where have I heard that name before?"
+Presently he came straight to his feet, while an exclamation escaped his
+lips.
+
+"Pardon me, Miss," he explained to Nance, who had looked around in
+surprise. "It is nothing. I take strange kinks sometimes, which make me
+yelp. I'll jist stroll outside a bit an' work it off."
+
+Once in the open he paced up and down before the door. There came to him
+now through the mist of twenty years the vision of an open grave, where
+his Nell was lying, and a young clergyman was reading the Burial
+Service. The man had come from a neighbouring parish, as his own rector
+was ill. Tom had heard his name then, and remembered it because of later
+events. Yes, the man's name was Martin Rutland. He had read how he had
+been deposed by his bishop for a serious offence. The newspapers had
+made much of the trouble at the time. Could it be possible that this was
+the same man?
+
+Tom paused in his rapid walk, and looked out over the lake, although he
+saw neither the shimmering water nor the dark trees in the background.
+He beheld again the look upon Martin's face the previous evening when he
+learned that Dick Russell was a clergyman as well as a medical man. He
+recalled how he had abruptly left the building, returning later, silent
+and gloomy. Then, why had Martin left so early this morning, and after
+the reference to Nance leaving him, why had he taken himself off again
+as if anxious to be alone? Tom thought, too, of the books in the cabin,
+not of an ordinary reader, but of a scholar and a thinker. Yes, so he
+concluded, this must be that same outcast person who had hidden himself
+away in the wilderness all of these years.
+
+There then came into his mind the thought of the beautiful young woman
+in the house. It was quite evident that she knew nothing about the past
+life of the man she had been in the habit of calling "father." What a
+terrible blow it would be to her if she ever heard the truth. Anyway,
+she should not hear it from him, Tom made up his mind to that. There was
+the slight chance, of course, that there might be some mistake, and that
+it was only a coincidence of names. He determined, nevertheless, to keep
+his eyes and ears open and try to find out what he could.
+
+"If it's true," he mused, "I must stand by the lassie. There'll be many
+only too glad of an opportunity of casting the story at her and causing
+her trouble. No, not a soul shall ever hear of it from my lips."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HEART THRUSTS
+
+
+That evening a little group gathered before the open fire, for the
+nights were still cool. Martin was in better spirits, and talked freely
+with the old prospector, to whom he had taken a great liking. Dad Seddon
+was sitting close to Nance, gazing upon the bright flames as they licked
+around the large chunks of wood and then curled up the chimney. The
+sleep had much refreshed the old man, although he was still quite weak
+from his hard experience since leaving Rapid City.
+
+Tom was in fine fettle. The little circle pleased him greatly, and at
+times he cast admiring glances toward Nance, who was busy with her
+needle. He had been thinking deeply over what he had heard that day
+about Martin, and he was anxious to know for certain if he were the same
+man who had buried his Nell years ago. He had tried in vain to find some
+resemblance between this long-bearded, rugged frontiersman and the trim
+young man who had stood before him on that saddest day of his whole
+life. "It cannot surely be the same," he thought, as he turned his eyes
+occasionally toward Martin, who was puffing away at his pipe. "And yet,"
+he mused, "years make a great difference in a man's appearance."
+
+"How are ye feelin' now, Dad?" he suddenly asked, turning to the old
+trapper.
+
+"Better, Tom," was the brief quiet reply.
+
+"That's good. A game of chess would put ye right on yer pins, eh?"
+
+"Sure thing!" and Dad's eyes brightened at the mention of his favourite
+game.
+
+"Ah, I thought that would bring ye out of yer dumps," and Tom's hearty
+laugh rang out. "But ye needn't think that I'm goin' to keep my nose
+down over any chess-board to-night, not a bit of it."
+
+"No?" and the old man looked his disappointment.
+
+"How d'ye expect to git a board an' men out here?" Tom queried.
+
+"Sure. I never thought of that," Dad sadly replied.
+
+"Don't tease Mr. Seddon," Nance laughed. "Would you like to have a game
+with me?" and she turned to the man at her side as she spoke.
+
+"What! Can you play, Miss?" There was a pathetic eagerness in Dad's eyes
+as he riveted them upon the young woman's face.
+
+In reply Nance rose, and going to a shelf brought down a chess-board and
+a small box containing the various pieces. Dad was delighted as he took
+the latter in his hands and examined them with a critical eye.
+
+"Did you make these?" he asked, turning to Martin.
+
+"Yes," was the reply, "and many a fine game we've had with them during
+the long winter evenings, though we haven't played much of late."
+
+Nance had now drawn up a small table, and soon she and Dad were deeply
+engaged in the royal game. Tom watched them with much satisfaction, and
+gave vent to several chuckles of delight when he found that Nance was a
+match for the trapper.
+
+"Ha, that was a fine move!" he exclaimed, while Nance laughed with glee
+as Dad scratched his head and endeavoured to extricate himself from the
+clever trap into which his fair opponent had led him. "I'm glad that Dad
+has met his equal at last," Tom continued, "fer he always beat me
+without mercy. The first time I ever saw chess played," and he now
+addressed his remarks to Martin, "was away back in Eastern Canada. Old
+Parson Dowden, who was rector fer forty years of Glendale, the parish in
+which I was born, didn't have an equal at the game as fer as I know.
+Why, he'd go without his meals any time to play chess."
+
+At these words, and especially at the mention of "Dowden" and
+"Glendale," Martin gave a distinct start, took the pipe from his mouth
+and looked keenly at Tom. But the latter seemed as though he did not
+notice Martin's surprise. He bent over, lighted a splinter of wood at
+the fire, and applied it to his pipe.
+
+"Yes," he continued between puffs, "old Parson Dowden was a great man at
+chess. I remember hearin' how he licked the parson from the next parish
+in a wonderful game. But he was a young man, an' hadn't the experience
+of Parson Dowden."
+
+The fingers of Martin's right hand clutched the pipe with a firm grip.
+His eyes, staring and big, were fixed upon the prospector's face.
+Surprise, mingled with consternation, was depicted upon his countenance.
+But Tom did not seem to notice anything unusual, and Nance was too
+intent upon the game to heed anything else.
+
+"I only saw that young parson from the adjoinin' parish but once," Tom
+went on after a pause, in which he seemed to be meditating. "It was when
+he buried my Nell. But, poor chap, I heard that he got into trouble, was
+put out of the Church, an' so left the parish to parts unknown. 'Twas a
+great blow to his friends an' relatives, so I understand."
+
+Tom ceased his narration, casually blew a cloud of smoke into the air,
+and shot one lightning glance toward Martin. Any doubt as to the
+identity of the man before him was now removed. The strained, haggard
+expression upon Martin's face plainly told of the agony within. He sat
+very still, although he often looked anxiously and keenly into Tom's
+face as if wondering how much he knew, and if he had any idea that the
+man sitting before him was the same who had buried his Nell. But the
+prospector's manner as he watched the game led him to believe that he
+had not the slightest suspicion. Although this was somewhat of a relief
+to Martin, yet he began to feel uneasy in Tom's presence. He longed to
+hear more about his old parish, and he knew that Tom could supply him
+with the information. Several times his lips moved ere he could
+sufficiently control himself to speak.
+
+"You've been away from Eastern Canada for some time, I suppose," he at
+length remarked in an attempted off-handed manner.
+
+"Yes, nigh on to twenty years," was the reply.
+
+"Many changes must have taken place in your home parish during that
+time."
+
+"Yes, many," and Tom gazed thoughtfully into the fire. "I kept in touch
+with it fer years, but I haven't heard any news fer a long time now. I
+guess people have fergotten all about me an' my Nell. It's wonderful how
+soon people will fergit except one thing."
+
+"And what is that?" Martin queried.
+
+"Oh, anything bad about a person. Now take the case of that young parson
+from Glendale fer instance. I don't believe they've fergotten about it
+yit, at least they hadn't the last time I heard from home."
+
+"Oh, you don't think so?" came involuntarily from Martin's lips, which
+Tom was not slow to notice.
+
+"No, not a bit of it. I understand that what he did almost ruined the
+Church there, and the man who followed him had a tough time of it."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes, numbers of people lost all faith in parsons, while others, though
+they did not exactly leave the Church, looked with suspicion upon the
+new man, as if wonderin' what capers he'd cut up."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"But there were some who took the trouble harder than all the rest," Tom
+continued. "The young parson's fall broke his parents' hearts, an' they
+both died the next year."
+
+"My God!"
+
+This unusual exclamation caused Nance to look up, startled, from the
+game. But Martin did not notice her. He was standing erect now, with
+clenched hands, looking straight before him. Quickly recovering himself,
+he sat down again.
+
+"It's nothing," he said. "I was overcome at the story of that wretch who
+killed his parents. Go on, please."
+
+And once more Tom stabbed to the quick.
+
+"I heard that there was a young woman, I jist fergit her name, who took
+on very hard. It nearly broke her heart at what the parson did. She was
+a fine singer, too, so I understand. She was sick fer a long time. When
+she got well she left Glendale, an' I heard later that she became a
+trained nurse. She was very beautiful. I know that, fer I saw her once
+myself. She was very much in love with the young parson, so I heard, an'
+she had her weddin' dress all made. They were to have been married the
+next summer. It was all very sad."
+
+Tom knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and sat watching the dying embers
+before him. Martin remained in his chair with his head bent forward, the
+very embodiment of despair. Occasionally Tom glanced toward him, and his
+heart smote him with compunction for having caused the man such agony of
+soul.
+
+Nance wondered more than usual at the expression upon her father's face
+as she stooped to give him the customary good-night kiss. She noticed
+that he took both of her hands in his and held them longer than was his
+wont. She knew that something was troubling his mind, and her heart was
+very heavy as she went to her room.
+
+During the following days Martin's mind was much disturbed. The news he
+had heard about his parents caused him intense remorse. He thought of
+them by day, and would often start up in the dead of night thinking that
+they were standing by his side. He pictured over and over again their
+sorrow as they sat alone at night in the old farmhouse, mourning over
+their wayward son. He recalled the last time he had seen them and how
+proudly they had looked into his face. Never before did he fully realise
+what his sin had meant to them. But now it all swept upon him with a
+maddening intensity. Often a lump would rise in his throat, and tears
+roll down his cheeks as that night when he had last seen his parents
+rose before him. Once out on the hills he had buried his face in his
+hands and sobbed like a child. Only the trees, flowers, and birds
+witnessed his grief, and they would not divulge the secret.
+
+Although Martin was fond of the old prospector, yet he felt somewhat
+uneasy in his presence. Several times he found Tom watching him with a
+wondering expression in his eyes. He was, accordingly, glad when Tom
+left with Dad for the diggings up the Quaska. But he knew that he would
+return in a few days, and his peace of mind would once more be
+disturbed.
+
+One beautiful evening Martin and Nance were seated at the supper table.
+The ice had run out of the lake and the river over a week ago. The air
+was balmy, and the days long and fine. Nance had been unusually quiet of
+late. She was wondering when Dick would return, and if he would be
+really the same as when he went away. She had thought over and over
+again every word he had uttered. The chair on which he had sat the last
+night he was in the cabin she had carefully kept in the same place. "It
+will be there for him when he comes back," she had whispered to herself.
+
+Hers was the supreme joy of pure first love, and her heart was light and
+happy. Dick Russell's strong, manly form rose before her. She saw the
+twinkle in his light-blue eyes, the frank open face, and the erect poise
+of his head. To her he was a hero, a knight such as she had read about
+in a book upon the shelf. She was thinking of him as she now sat at the
+head of the table on this fine evening.
+
+"It will soon be time for us to be packing up, Nance."
+
+The words startled her, and she lifted her eyes quickly to Martin's
+face.
+
+"Yes," the latter continued, "we must be over to the Mackenzie in time
+to catch the steamer on its return from the North."
+
+"Oh!" It was all that Nance could utter, but it caused Martin to study
+her face very carefully.
+
+"Don't you want to go, little one?" he asked, not unkindly.
+
+"Do you really want to go, daddy?" she returned.
+
+"We can't stay here, Nance, that's certain. I could not live with such a
+crowd swarming around us. There would no longer be any charm for me
+here."
+
+"But there would be no quietness outside, daddy."
+
+"That's different, quite different."
+
+Nance lowered her eyes and toyed for some time with her cup. Martin
+watched her anxiously. He knew as well as if she had told him why she
+did not wish to leave the country now. But he must get her away forever
+from the influence of the young usurper, who would undoubtedly return.
+
+Although Nance was very quiet, a great struggle, nevertheless, was
+taking place within her breast. She wished to stay, to see Dick again.
+But her duty must be to Martin first. He it was who had done so much for
+her, and her love for him was deep and sincere. How could she see him
+stay if his heart was set upon leaving the place? Rising from the table,
+she threw her arms about Martin's neck.
+
+"Daddy," and her face came close to his as she spoke, "I will go with
+you whenever the time comes. You are all I have in the world who really
+loves me, so why should I care to remain here?"
+
+Martin caught her hand in his, drew down her face, and kissed her. Tears
+came into his eyes, and when he tried to speak he found it difficult to
+form the words. He rose abruptly to his feet, and dashed his hand across
+his eyes.
+
+"There, there, little one," and a smile such as Nance had never seen
+illumined his face. "I know you love me, and it makes me happy. It will
+be hard for you to leave, but----"
+
+At that instant a hoarse, raucous sound fell upon their ears with a
+startling intensity. They looked at each other, and then hurried to the
+door, opened it, and stepped outside.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE ROYAL BOUNTY
+
+
+The _Northern Packet_, the little flat-bottom, stern-wheel steamer, had
+made a notable trip up the Heena River. She was the first that had ever
+ploughed the waters of this crooked stream. Every foot of the way she
+had to contend with the swift current, and there was constant danger
+from sandbars, which, like long fingers, were thrust out below the
+surface. No pilot had hitherto navigated that river, and great care had
+to be exercised.
+
+Thus for several days the steamer nosed her way into the wilderness. Her
+incessant wheezing and puffing startled the wary denizens of the region.
+Rabbits scurried away in affright; foxes hurried off under cover; moose,
+grazing in wild meadows, lifted their great heads, stared for an instant
+at the strange monster on the river, snorted, and with long, swinging
+strides sought refuge among the tall trees.
+
+But the _Northern Packet_ was well accustomed to startling the creatures
+of the wilderness. She had been doing it on her long, tedious run of
+over two thousand miles up the mighty Yukon River. It was not the first
+time that she had done so, either. Hers were the first blasts which had
+awakened the silence of the land for several years past. She had made it
+a point to be the first steamer to contend with running ice, and other
+dangers of that northern stream, to carry supplies to lone miners and
+prospectors encamped along the banks. No sound was so welcome to the
+weary watchers as her hoarse whistle, and no sight so dear to straining
+eyes as her scarred prow breasting the racing stream.
+
+But never before had the _Northern Packet_ started upon such an
+uncertain venture as the run up the Heena to the Klutana Lake. Neither
+had she ever carried such a throng of excited and anxious men as those
+which now crowded her almost to overflowing. Word of the new strike had
+drifted down the Yukon, and by the time the steamer reached Rapid City
+it looked as if she could carry no more. But in some mysterious manner
+room was made. There was no limit set by stern authority as to the
+number of passengers she should carry. It was simply climb on board and
+room would be made somehow. All the freight which had been consigned for
+points farther down river was still on board, and this took up
+considerable space on the lower deck. But wherever there was a nook some
+one was stowed, and at night those who could not curl themselves up on
+the floor were forced to stand and wait their turn. But notwithstanding
+the inconveniences a remarkable spirit of harmony prevailed. Those who
+had already staked their claims were looking eagerly forward to large
+cleanups, while those who had never been up the river before were
+greatly encouraged by the reports they heard of the richness of the
+land.
+
+Dick Russell was as anxious as any of the men on the steamer to reach
+Lake Klutana. It was not the gold he craved to see, but the young woman
+whose face was enshrined in his heart. He was somewhat worried for her
+sake. He feared the crowd of men thronging the boat. Some of them, he
+knew, were Nature's gentlemen, but there were others who could not be
+trusted. He believed that it would be necessary to keep a strict watch
+upon "The Twins." That they had some mischief in their minds he was
+quite certain, and it was only natural that he should think of Nance. As
+for the newcomers, who came from the lower river, he knew very little
+about them. He had overheard some of them talking, however, and the
+stories they had told filled him with apprehension. He was determined,
+at any rate, to put Nance on her guard against such men, and to protect
+her from any injury.
+
+He was standing on deck, well forward, when the _Northern Packet_
+steamed out of the Heena into Lake Klutana. Eagerly he strained his eyes
+for the first glimpse of the little cabin nestling on the bank among the
+trees. When the loud, coarse blasts of the whistle rent the air he saw
+the Indians running to the shore in amazement. Then as the steamer swept
+forward Martin's house appeared to view, and in a few minutes he was
+able to see two figures standing in the doorway.
+
+There was much excitement on board as the steamer slowed down, drifted
+slowly into shore, and her bow ran gently upon the sand and gravel right
+in front of Martin's house. Then ensued a wild scramble for the shore,
+but Dick was the first to land, and without waiting an instant he ran
+swiftly up the slope straight toward Nance. The expression upon the
+latter's face was one of supreme joy as she held out her hands to the
+young man.
+
+"My! it's good to be back," Dick panted, as he took her hand in his.
+"How are you, sir?" and he turned to Martin.
+
+"Well, very well," was the somewhat reluctant reply. Martin then
+relapsed into silence, and stood watching the miners scrambling off the
+steamer.
+
+But various conflicting emotions were disturbing Martin's heart. He
+longed to turn upon the visitor and drive him away from the place. The
+look of happiness in Nance's eyes, however, deterred him from action.
+How could he bring sorrow to her who was dearer to him than life itself?
+
+He was standing thus uncertain what to do, when a cry of pain down by
+the shore caused the three to turn quickly in the direction from whence
+the sound came. There was excitement there, and the men were gathered
+around some object, and were talking in a most excited manner.
+
+Fearing that something was seriously the matter, Dick left Nance, and
+hurried at once to the spot.
+
+"What's wrong?" he asked of those standing on the outskirts of the
+crowd.
+
+"Pete Larsen's hurt," was the reply. "In jumping from the boat his foot
+caught, and he came down hard on the ground."
+
+Dick at once pushed his way through the crowd, and those gathered about
+the unfortunate man fell back a little as he approached.
+
+"It's his leg," Dick explained, after he had made a brief examination.
+"I'm afraid it's broken. We must get him away from here as soon as
+possible."
+
+"Put him back on the steamer," was the suggestion of several. "He can go
+down to the mission station. They'll look after him there better than we
+can."
+
+"No, no!" moaned the injured man. "For God's sake, let me stay! I must
+stake my claim."
+
+"Guess he'll have to stay," spoke up the captain of the _Packet_. "We
+couldn't do anything with him on board. He needs attention at once, and
+more than we can give him."
+
+"You are right," Dick replied. "He must remain here. We'll look after
+you, Pete, so don't worry."
+
+By this time Martin had joined the crowd, and was listening to the
+conversation.
+
+"Bring him up to my house," he quietly remarked. "We'll take care of him
+as well as we can."
+
+At these words the miners turned and looked upon the speaker. They were
+surprised at his sudden appearance in their midst, and several
+questioned one another as to where he had come from.
+
+Dick at once motioned to the men standing near, who lifted Pete in their
+arms and carried him as gently as they could up the slope to Martin's
+house, and laid him upon the cot within the building.
+
+"It is a pity that we are giving you so much trouble," Dick apologised,
+as Nance met him at the door. "We are certainly making a hospital out of
+your house."
+
+"We do not mind," was the reply. "It is so nice to be able to help
+people in trouble."
+
+"I am afraid there may be more who will need assistance," and the young
+man turned his face sadly toward the lake. "Among all that crowd there's
+something sure to be happening every day."
+
+Martin stood near at hand and watched Dick as he reset the broken leg
+and put it in splints. He could not help admiring the skilful way in
+which everything was done. As he looked upon the stricken man lying
+before him he was thankful for the first time that Dick Russell was
+present. If he were simply a medical man and not a missionary, Martin
+would have been delighted. He thought of the days years ago when, in his
+old parish in Eastern Canada, he had longed to be a doctor as well as a
+clergyman. There had been several outlying places where the people were
+very poor. What a comfort it would have been to them, and what an
+assistance to him in his work, could he have attended to their bodily
+wants. And now this young man was doing what he had desired to do, and
+was unable through lack of training.
+
+A sudden revulsion of feeling came over Martin as he watched Dick doing
+so much for the stricken miner. Here was this man, young in years, doing
+an unselfish work, while he himself was useless. The missionary had
+given up home and the comforts of civilisation, and was living in the
+wilderness, not for the sake of gold, but to help others. And what was
+he himself doing? He had disgraced his calling; his Church had cast him
+out, and he in turn had repudiated her. He had thought that it would be
+an easy thing to free himself from her influence. But here, right in the
+region where he believed that he would be safe from all interference,
+and in his own cabin at that, stood a clergyman of the Church which had
+cast him out forever.
+
+Then for the first time since he had been deposed came the feeling of
+his own selfishness. What had he really accomplished during his long
+sojourn in the wilderness? A longing suddenly rose in his heart to take
+up the work he had abandoned so many years before. He recalled the high
+ideals which had animated his soul when he took charge of his first and
+only parish. They were just as lofty and noble, he believed, as those of
+the young man now standing before him.
+
+After the injured man was resting as comfortably as could be expected,
+Martin, Nance, and Dick sat for a while outside the door. The evening
+was balmy and the air delightful. The _Northern Packet_ had moved away,
+and was lying close to the shore just across the mouth of the Quaska.
+Dick related his experiences on the steamer, and told in a humorous way
+the inconveniences the passengers endured. Martin had very little to say
+for some time. He leaned back against the house, smoking and listening
+intently. Nance was very happy. Often she turned her eyes full upon
+Dick's face, and at times her joyous laugh rippled forth at some droll
+story.
+
+The sun had just swung low behind a tall mountain peak and heavy shadows
+were lying athwart the calm surface of the lake. The only sounds which
+disturbed the peaceful scene came from the men unloading the steamer.
+Martin gazed over the water and far beyond the black forest. His pipe
+was clutched in his right hand, and he had the appearance of a man
+oblivious as to his surroundings. Presently he shifted a little on the
+bench and glanced at Dick. The latter was sitting near Nance, silent,
+and watching with her the operations going on across the river. Martin
+beheld the thoughtful young faces aglow with a light which was more than
+the reflection of the departing sun.
+
+"What led you to come into this country?" Martin quietly asked, turning
+toward Dick.
+
+The latter gave a slight start, as if aroused from a dream, and looked
+searchingly into his inquirer's face.
+
+"It was the Royal Bounty which did it," was the slow reply.
+
+"The Royal Bounty! I don't understand."
+
+"No, it is not likely that you should. It is all very simple and
+beautiful to me, however."
+
+"Go on," Martin commanded, as Dick paused, and looked once more out over
+the water.
+
+"Would you really like to hear my little story which I have never told
+to any one before?"
+
+"Certainly. That is, if you don't mind."
+
+"No, not at all. But I should not like to tell it to every one. Few
+there are in the world, it seems to me, who would understand. It was all
+through a sermon about the Royal Bounty which I heard years ago from the
+lips of a dear old clergyman. He spoke about King Solomon giving to the
+Queen of Sheba all the things she asked for, and then he added of his
+own free will of his Royal Bounty. I cannot remember now all that he
+said, but the sermon made a very strong impression upon my heart and
+mind. Several thoughts, however, I can never forget. He showed how God
+is always giving us of His Royal Bounty, that is, blessings over and
+above what we actually need. The earth, for instance, might have been
+made all stony, but He added flowers to give us joy. Birds are not
+absolutely necessary. He could have made the seasons, the sun, fields,
+and forests. But He gave of His Royal Bounty, and added the birds to
+change the silence into song. He also showed that Christ could have gone
+through life working at His tasks like other men. But He was not content
+to do that alone. He was ever going about doing good. He threw in, so to
+speak, the Royal Bounty, that is, blessings which were not expected.
+
+"I was somewhat unsettled in my mind at the time I heard that sermon,
+and it started me thinking along new lines. I had open before me a
+business career, with every opportunity for great success. But that
+sermon changed my mind completely. I desired to become more than a mere
+successful business machine. Life took on a new aspect. I wished to do
+something that would bring the greatest joy to others. With this object
+in view I entered college to study for the Ministry, and in due time
+took my degree. I was not satisfied with this, however, and longed to be
+better fitted for my life's work. With my father's permission I entered
+McGill University, and studied medicine. When I was through there I was
+ordained. This was a great day for me, and yet I was not altogether
+satisfied. A comfortable parish I could have entered at once, and
+carried on the work for which I had been prepared. But I wished to do
+more, something which was not expected of me, such as caring for the
+bodies as well as for the souls of those among whom I laboured. I have
+always believed that the two should go together, and am now more
+convinced of it than ever."
+
+"Quite true, quite true," Martin interposed. "But how did you happen to
+come into such a region as this, when you might have done such a good
+work outside?"
+
+"I am coming to that," Dick replied. "It, as well, was all due to the
+Royal Bounty idea. You see, this caused me to enter the Ministry and to
+study medicine that I might make the most of life and do as much good as
+possible. I, accordingly, looked around for a field in which to begin my
+work. Everywhere I found earnest clergymen and doctors devoting
+themselves to the souls and bodies of people in their various parishes,
+so my service of a dual nature was not required. One night I heard an
+address by a missionary who had been working for years in the northland.
+He appealed for men, and impressed me so strongly that I at once
+responded. That was five years ago, and I have been up here ever since."
+
+"And you have never regretted the step?" Martin queried.
+
+"No, not for a single moment. Whether I have done any good or dispensed
+the Royal Bounty is not for me to judge. But in living among men on the
+ragged edge of civilisation and trying to help them body and soul has
+given me great happiness. I would not exchange my lot for the most
+favoured being on earth."
+
+There was a long silence when Dick ended his story. He sat quietly by
+Nance's side, and compared the past with the present. He had fondly
+believed that his life was full to overflowing. But now what a
+difference. There was added a new happiness, a love such as he had never
+experienced before.
+
+Martin, too, was silent. Thoughts, too deep for words, were passing
+through his mind. In his heart as well as in Dick's a new life had
+arisen, although of a far different nature.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+BEGINNINGS
+
+
+Morning dawned clear and fresh. The sun was abroad early, and the filmy
+mist hovering over the lake soon vanished before the hot rays. The
+gold-seekers on the shore were astir at break of day. Some, in fact, had
+been busy all night selecting suitable sites and pitching their tents.
+The steamer was nearly unloaded, and the captain was anxious to hurry
+down the river as speedily as possible to return with another cargo
+before the summer was over.
+
+The miners had chosen this spot for their encampment because it was on
+the side of the Quaska River where the gold had been discovered. They
+would thus not have to cross the stream, but simply follow the trail to
+the diggings. They wished to settle near the lake so that the steamers
+could land their goods right at their doors, otherwise it would be
+difficult to take the whole of their supplies up river. They could
+easily pack what they would need for several days, and could always come
+back to the lake for more.
+
+Dick stood in the door of Martin's house watching the animated scene
+across the river. Not a ripple stirred the surface of the lake, and the
+dark trees and the towering mountains were reflected in the clear, deep
+water. It appealed to his poetic nature. He had beheld many grand sights
+since coming north, but this was the most beautiful and majestic upon
+which he had ever gazed. "What grandeur," he mused, "and to think that
+she has been living here in the midst of it all for years, far away from
+the tumult of the world."
+
+A step at his side caused him to turn, and his eyes rested upon the
+object of his thoughts.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful," Nance remarked in response to Dick's greeting. "I
+love the lake, mountains, and trees. I have looked upon them ever since
+I was a child, and they are very near to my heart."
+
+"How fortunate they are," the young man murmured, gazing with admiration
+upon her bright face.
+
+"Oh, they know nothing about it," Nance laughed. "It is an all one-sided
+love, you see."
+
+"I wish that I could change places with them for a while. I wonder if
+your feelings would be the same then."
+
+A deep flush suffused Nance's cheeks at these words, and her eyes
+dropped for an instant. Dick noticed her embarrassment, and he was
+afraid lest he had offended her.
+
+"Pardon me," he hastened to explain. "I fear that I have said too much.
+I allowed my heart to overcome my head, or, in other words, I made a
+fool of myself."
+
+"You didn't offend me," Nance shyly replied. "I was thinking how funny
+it would be if you took the place of the mountains, trees, and lake."
+
+"And why?" Dick questioned.
+
+"Because you would have such a hard time of it. You have only seen them
+in peace and sunshine. If you could look upon them as I have, when a
+fierce storm is raging over the land, you would not envy them then. But
+I love them just the same. I like to hear the wind roaring down the
+valley, to see the trees shake and bend, and the water of the lake
+lashed into foam. Oh, it is grand!"
+
+Dick looked with amazement into the face of the young woman at his side.
+He saw it transformed. Her cheeks were aglow, and her eyes were very
+bright as she gazed far off into space and beheld the scene she so
+vividly described. He knew that it was no ordinary woman that uttered
+such words. Though naturally quiet and reserved, there were within her
+soul great depths of thought. She was in harmony with her surroundings,
+and her rich blood pulsated to the tunes of the moods of the wilderness.
+All this appealed strongly to Dick. To him she was the most beautiful
+and yet mysterious woman he had ever met. Everything she said and did
+was so natural. There was nothing artificial or unreal about her. To her
+the veneer of polite social life was unknown.
+
+As these thoughts passed through Dick's mind Martin suddenly appeared,
+hurrying along the trail from the forest. His rifle was over his
+shoulder, and he carried in his hand several grouse he had recently
+shot. With a cry of joy Nance sprang to meet him, and Martin's face
+brightened as she drew near. Taking the grouse from his hand, she walked
+by his side.
+
+"Where have you been, daddy?" she asked. "We have been waiting breakfast
+for you."
+
+"I am sorry, Nance, that I have kept you waiting," was the reply. "But I
+have been out on the hills for several hours. And how is Pete?" was his
+greeting to Dick as he reached the door.
+
+"Doing as well as can be expected. He has had a fairly good night."
+
+During breakfast Martin had very little to say, and Dick observed him as
+carefully as he could without arousing any suspicion. He noted that his
+host seemed ill at ease, that his face was drawn and haggard, and that
+his eyes were big and staring. He seemed like a man who had been awake
+all night, and whose thoughts were troubling him. He wondered if Nance
+saw anything amiss with her father. He longed to speak to her, but had
+no opportunity just then. When the meal was over Dick tended to the
+wants of the injured man lying on the cot, and then made ready to leave
+the house.
+
+"May I have the use of your canoe, sir?" he asked, turning to Martin.
+
+"Certainly, certainly," was the jerky reply, and Dick wondered more than
+ever.
+
+He thought much concerning the man's strange appearance as he paddled
+swiftly across to the encampment on the opposite shore. Here he found
+confusion and excitement. Men were busy unloading the steamer, and the
+miners were searching for their goods among the piles of stuff thrown
+out upon the bank. With difficulty Dick rescued his own meagre outfit,
+and carried it to a secure place. Opening one of the bundles, he lifted
+out a small leather writing-case, from which he took a sheet of paper
+and an envelope. Seating himself upon his rolled-up tent, he began to
+write. This letter was the outcome of many thoughts which had been
+surging through his mind for days past. Several times while on the river
+he had been upon the point of doing this, but had always put it off
+until a more favourable opportunity. The accident which had happened to
+Pete, and the fact that the steamer was soon to depart, made any further
+delay unavoidable. He knew that help would be needed if he were to
+accomplish any definite work among the miners. There was only one place
+to which he could turn, and if he neglected to send a message now it
+might be too late when the next steamer arrived.
+
+When he had finished the letter he went on board the _Northern Packet_
+and gave it to the captain, with strict instructions to deliver it at
+the mission station of The Good Samaritan down river.
+
+Hurrying ashore, he started to work at once upon his tent. The place he
+chose for his abode was a snug spot near several large jack-pines. It
+took him most of the morning to complete the task of erecting his tent,
+and when at last all was finished he stood and looked upon his handiwork
+with much satisfaction. The tent shone white beneath the sun, and not a
+wrinkle marred the smoothness of the well-stretched canvas.
+
+While Dick had been thus busy at work dozens of men around him were also
+erecting their humble, flimsy abodes. A row of tents had been stretched
+along the water front, several yards back from the shore of the lake.
+Higher up on the shelving bank others were placed, while a street ran
+between. On all sides pounding and shouting continued throughout the
+day. Men were constantly moving about, all hustling as fast as they
+could in order to get through with their work as speedily as possible.
+It was the rude beginning of a frontier mining camp, which would develop
+later into a town of wooden houses of considerable importance.
+
+One tent much larger than any of the rest was being erected right in the
+centre of the encampment. Dick watched this with more than ordinary
+interest. The men who were doing the work had come up from the lower
+river and were strangers to him, although he had seen them on the
+steamer. He had not liked their appearance when first he saw them, and
+they impressed him now more unfavourably than ever. There were three of
+them, rough and foul-mouthed. At first he had partly suspected the
+object of their visit into the country. Now he was certain that they
+were not miners, but liquor dealers, and the tent they were erecting was
+to be the saloon. Several cases piled together contained whiskey, he was
+quite sure, and when these were opened he well knew what the result
+would be. There was no one in authority to keep law and order, and he
+shuddered as he thought of the wild scenes which would ensue when the
+whiskey began to be circulated among the miners.
+
+He naturally thought of Nance, and his face grew grave as he realised
+the danger to which she would be constantly exposed. What regard would
+drink-inflamed men have for the purity and the honour of the beautiful
+woman across the river? he asked himself over and over again. Already,
+no doubt, they knew of her presence in the little cabin. When sober they
+might not interfere with her, but when mad with the demon of whiskey
+there was no telling what they might do. There were several men in the
+camp he could trust, especially Tom and Dad. But what could a few do
+against so many?
+
+The presence of Sam Pelchie and Dave Purvis disturbed him. They had put
+up their miserable little tents, and were now loitering around, always
+together. Several times Dick saw them engaged in earnest conversation
+and casting furtive glances at the cabin across the Quaska. He suspected
+these men, and firmly believed that they had some sinister motive in
+their minds. "Could it be of Nance they were talking?" he mused. "Had
+they heard of her down at Rapid City, and were their veiled remarks in
+reference to her when they had spoken about Martin?" The more he thought
+of these things, the more uneasy he became. Just what to do he did not
+know, but he was determined to be on his guard, and keep as sharp a
+watch as possible over the movements of the two men.
+
+During the rest of the day Dick made himself useful in helping his
+neighbours. The men who had lived all winter at Rapid City were not in
+the least surprised at the assistance he gave, for they knew him of old.
+But the newcomers were much astonished, and all agreed that the young
+"parson chap was a real sort of a man after all."
+
+That evening Dick crossed the river to see Nance and his patient. He
+found the former seated by Martin in front of the house, for the evening
+was very mild. She greeted the visitor with a smile as he sat down upon
+the bench at her side. Martin had very little to say, and while he
+puffed at his pipe the young people talked about the miners over the
+river.
+
+Dick was full of plans which had been revolving in his mind all day. He
+said nothing about the saloon nor his suspicions as to what the miners
+might do when inflamed with whiskey. He did not wish to alarm Nance, and
+if necessary he would speak to Martin privately. His face became
+animated as he told about the church he hoped to build and the hospital
+tent he expected would be sent up from the mission station down river.
+"I believe they can spare it," he added, "for the missionary in charge
+told me that he had one he could let me have if ever I wanted it."
+
+"So you think there will be need of a hospital, then?" Martin remarked.
+
+"Certainly. We can't tell how soon several of those chaps may get
+knocked out and will need attention. It has been the way in other large
+mining camps, and this one is not likely to be an exception."
+
+"Will you be able to care for them yourself?" Martin inquired. "It will
+be quite an undertaking, will it not?"
+
+"I have considered that matter very carefully and believe there will be
+no trouble. I have written to the mission station down river, asking for
+a trained nurse. I think they can spare one. As soon as the tent comes I
+shall be able to hold services in it until we get a church built."
+
+"What do you mean by a church?" Nance simply asked.
+
+Dick gave a start, and looked at her in surprise.
+
+"What!" he demanded, "didn't you ever hear of a church?"
+
+"Only in books, but I could never understand what the word meant. I
+suppose it is one of those wonderful things that people have in the
+great outside world."
+
+Dick now looked at Martin as if expecting him to speak. But the latter
+was gazing far off over the lake, to all appearance seeing and hearing
+nothing around him. His pipe was clutched firmly in his right hand. He
+was sitting very straight, with body tense and rigid. At length he arose
+abruptly to his feet.
+
+"Nance doesn't know," and he turned to the young man as he spoke. "Tell
+her if you like. I shall be back presently."
+
+When he returned about an hour later he found the young couple sitting
+where he had left them. He was quick to note the expression of happiness
+upon their faces. They had eyes only for each other, and they could not
+read the writing upon the countenance of the man who slowly approached,
+and sank down wearily upon the seat he had vacated. They little realised
+that while they were engaged in such a pleasant conversation Martin had
+been wrestling hard with his own heart as he paced to and fro along the
+margin of the lake. It was not for them to know of the forces which had
+risen in his soul, and which at times had almost gained the mastery. It
+was not easy to break the cords which had bound him for years. He had
+taken such a grim joy in his spirit of rebellion, and the proud resolve
+that he would have nothing more to do with the Church which had cast him
+out. And yet in the presence of the missionary old longings returned
+which he had imagined were dead and buried forever. He comprehended now
+more than ever how true were the bishop's words. He had believed that
+the influence of the Church was merely external. But now he knew that it
+was within him, and that wherever he went he carried with him the
+teachings he had received. He understood that the truths which had been
+engrained into his very being were much like seeds. They might lie
+dormant for years, and to all outward appearance dead. But the life was
+within them still, and through proper environment of soil, air, and
+sunshine they would spring forth into vigorous growth.
+
+"Oh, daddy," was Nance's greeting. "I have heard such wonderful things.
+You never told me about the Church. But," and here her voice lowered,
+"Dick has been telling me so much."
+
+"Has he?" Martin replied, and again lapsed into silence.
+
+The missionary remained for some time after Martin returned, relating to
+Nance many things of which she knew nothing. To all this she listened
+with rapt attention. What she heard was all so wonderful to her, and
+Dick was so enthusiastic that it was almost impossible not to be
+affected by his spirit. It was late when at length he arose, and looked
+in at Pete. Finding him asleep he went back out of doors. Nance was
+standing there, but Martin had gone into the house. He stood by her
+side, and gazed out over the water.
+
+"Beautiful, isn't it?" he remarked.
+
+"Yes," was the quiet reply. "But it never seemed so lovely as to-night."
+
+"What's the reason, do you think?" Dick queried.
+
+"Oh, I don't know, except that when I am very happy things always seem
+more beautiful than at other times."
+
+As Dick watched her standing there an intense longing came over him to
+seize in his those well-shaped hands which were clasped before her. He
+forebore, however, and stood silently by her side, looking with her out
+over the lake. Speech was unnecessary, for love was speaking to their
+hearts in a language which could not be expressed in mere words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+UNDER COVER OF NIGHT
+
+
+When Dick left Nance at the cabin door and walked slowly down to the
+river, his heart was in a tumult of happiness such as he had never
+before experienced. He could hear the sounds of laughing, talking, and
+shouting among the miners, late though it was. He suspected that some of
+the men had been drinking, and were accordingly in a mood of riotous
+mirth. He did not wish to join them just now. What connection had he
+with their revelry? He contrasted the quietness of Martin's cabin with
+the confusion over the river. On the one side there was Nance, beautiful
+and pure; on the other, men destined for noble purposes and yet willing
+to degrade themselves at the least opportunity. What could he do to make
+those men see and realise something of the joy of a life in which the
+evil passions were subdued, and the higher virtues were predominate? Was
+it not his duty as a missionary in the Great Master's Cause to stem the
+tide of evil which was about to set in, and, if possible, to check the
+moral depravity which, like in other mining camps, always abounded? But
+what could one man do against so many? He could speak strong words of
+denunciation, rebuke, and exhort. But he knew such efforts would be of
+little avail. The men might listen but they would not heed. Some issue
+of a practical nature, he was well aware, was needed to cause such men
+to side with right against wrong. But what was this issue to be which
+would appeal to natures such as theirs? Not a campaign against liquor
+and its attending evils, he was sure of that.
+
+Dick seated himself upon a log at the foot of a large tree, and gave
+himself up to serious meditation. Martin's canoe was nearby, so he could
+cross the river and in a few minutes reach his own tent. But he had no
+desire to sleep, as his mind was too active for that. He thought of
+Nance, her words, and the charm of her face. But a cloud arose to darken
+the light. The miners came into his mind, and he could not get clear of
+the idea that something was to happen, and that the one he loved was in
+real danger. He felt that his duty was of a twofold nature now: he must
+protect Nance, and also help the men who would not help themselves. But
+how was he to do this?
+
+He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of a canoe grating upon the
+shore. Looking quickly up he was able to discern by the light of the
+moon two dark forms stepping from a little craft some distance below
+Martin's cabin. That they were there for no good purpose he felt quite
+sure, and his attention became instantly riveted upon their movements.
+He saw them leave the edge of the water and glide toward the house.
+
+Rising to his feet, he stood irresolute for a few heart-beats, wondering
+what course he should pursue. It would not do for him to follow them in
+the open, as his form could easily be seen. Glancing to the right he saw
+the forest, sweeping in a black curve around the back of the house and
+not far away. With him to think was to act, so moving at once a short
+distance up stream, he reached the border of the clearing until he
+gained the shelter of the sombre trees. Then travelling as rapidly as
+caution would permit, he skirted the edge of the forest, keeping well
+within the black shadows.
+
+Reaching at length a position just back of the cabin, he peered
+cautiously forth. The bright light of the moon made every object visible
+in the clearing beyond, so that any one approaching the house could
+easily be seen, although his countenance could not be discerned.
+Observing no one in sight, he moved forward a few paces and again
+stopped. This time his efforts were rewarded, for out in the open he saw
+the two men moving hurriedly to and fro. Several times they encircled
+the cabin. They seemed to have no design upon the building itself, but
+contented themselves by keeping a certain distance away. Dick racked his
+brain in an effort to solve the purpose of their strange actions. Ere
+long he heard the faint sounds of blows, and observed one of the men
+driving something into the ground. He then moved some distance away,
+when more blows followed. This was repeated several times, and the
+concealed watcher closely observed each spot where this process was
+performed.
+
+Suddenly the meaning of it all flashed into Dick's mind. They were
+staking claims upon the very ground where the cabin was situated. The
+thought of this cowardly act sent the blood coursing rapidly through his
+veins, and a desire came upon him to rush forth, confront them, and
+frustrate their evil designs. This, however, he realised would be of
+little use. He well knew that Martin had not staked the spot upon which
+he was living. In a way it was his by right of possession, but how that
+would hold in mining law he had not the least idea. He cared little,
+anyway, for the legal right, as it was the sense of justice which
+over-shadowed everything else. Did the men desire the cabin? he
+wondered, and had they taken this under-handed method of procuring it?
+or did they have some other motive in view of which he was ignorant?
+
+Dick watched the men until they had finished their task, and made their
+way back to the river. He was tempted to go over, pull up the stakes
+they had driven down, and throw them away among the trees. But this he
+knew would not do. It might lead to complications. He determined,
+nevertheless, to have a hand in this affair, and that at once.
+
+Quickly making his way back over the route he had recently travelled, he
+came close to the river. Here he remained until he was sure that the two
+men had reached the opposite shore. He then walked cautiously toward
+Martin's canoe, pushed it off, and paddled as silently as possible
+across the stream. It did not take him long to reach his own tent, and
+when once inside he sat down upon his bunk, and gave himself over to
+anxious thought. He longed for some trusty person with whom he could
+discuss the whole affair, and his mind turned naturally to Tom, who was
+up at the new diggings. At first he was inclined to wait until morning
+to see what would happen. This idea he soon banished, however, and he
+determined to set off at once for assistance.
+
+Silence brooded over the encampment as he started forth upon his
+journey. The numerous tents gleamed white in the light of the moon, and
+Dick paused for a moment to gaze upon the scene. Nature was making
+everything beautiful, and a holy hush reigned over mountains, river, and
+lake. But what a change would take place on this spot in a few days, nay
+even when the new day dawned fresh and bright. In a few weeks Quaska
+would be a typical mining camp, where licentiousness would run riot,
+unless in some way it could be checked. He looked across the river to
+the house nestling on the slope of the opposite bank, and thought of
+Nance sleeping so peacefully, with no idea of the lone man who on this
+night was so alert and watchful. With a wordless prayer that she might
+be kept safe from harm, he moved rapidly along the trail leading up
+stream. He knew that by keeping close to the river, even though he could
+not always follow the trail, he would in time come upon the miners.
+
+It was still very early when Dick came in sight of the first tents close
+to the bank of the creek. Soon others appeared to view, but no living
+being could be seen. Not wishing to disturb any one, and not knowing
+which was Tom's cabin, he strolled along the shore to observe how much
+work the men had been doing. Coming to a large tree he sat down upon the
+ground, and leaned back against the bole. Little did he know that years
+before, under that same fir, Martin and Nance had stopped to rest, and
+that the maiden had played in the sand nearby. Had he known of this, how
+precious would the spot have been to him. He thought of Nance,
+nevertheless, as he reclined there. In truth she was seldom out of his
+mind. Presently he saw her standing before him. The same sweet smile was
+upon her face, and her hands were stretched out toward him. He noted how
+small and brown they were, and he reached out to take them in his own.
+At that instant the vision faded, and he opened his eyes with a start,
+to see Tom standing before him, holding a tin pail in his hand.
+
+"Sorry I've disturbed ye," and the prospector chuckled. "Ye sure looked
+like a sleepin' beauty."
+
+"Asleep, all right, but not a beauty," Dick laughed, as he sprang to his
+feet. "It was stupid of me to go to sleep."
+
+"Why didn't ye come to my shack, pard?" Tom asked, as he placed his pail
+upon the ground.
+
+"I didn't know which was yours, Tom, and I did not care to disturb the
+camp hunting around."
+
+"H'm! What on earth brought ye out here at sich an unearthly hour? Tell
+me that."
+
+"Business, Tom."
+
+"Must be mighty special business."
+
+"That's for you to judge."
+
+"Nothin' wrong down yon among the men, I hope?"
+
+"Nothing special. They were asleep when I left, or most of them, at any
+rate."
+
+"It isn't the lassie, is it?" and Tom looked keenly into the young man's
+face.
+
+"Yes; it concerns her and her father."
+
+Tom at once picked up his pail, and soon returned with it full to the
+brim.
+
+"Come with me, pard," he quietly remarked. "We'd better talk it out
+under cover."
+
+When once within the tent Tom placed the pail of water upon the ground,
+and turned to his companion.
+
+"Sit down, pard, an' let's have yer story. Speak low, as it's better not
+to let every ninny hear what ye've got to say."
+
+Quickly and briefly Dick related his experiences during the past night,
+to all of which Tom listened with much interest. When the story was
+ended the prospector sat for a while thinking deeply. He scratched his
+head in a characteristic manner. At length he rose, and reached for his
+frying-pan.
+
+"We'll have some breakfast, pard, eh?" he began. "Ye surely must need
+some grub by this time. I brought down a fine sheep out on the hills
+yesterday, an' a nice juicy piece 'ill do ye much good, I'm thinkin',
+fer ye look about tuckered out."
+
+"I've hardly thought about eating," Dick replied with a laugh, "so
+worked up have I been over this affair."
+
+"An' good reason, pard. I'm jist at a loss to express my feelin's at
+present, so must do somethin' with my hands. It'll all come back soon,
+an' then I'll tell ye jist what I think about them skunks."
+
+"But I'm much puzzled," Dick mused.
+
+"Over what, pard?"
+
+"I've been wondering if we can do anything. Martin hasn't staked the
+claim on which his house is situated, and The Twins have. Now, legally,
+to whom does that land belong?"
+
+Tom tossed several pieces of meat savagely into the frying-pan, and
+watched them for a while as they crackled and sizzled.
+
+"Legally! Legally!" he roared. "What is the meanin' of the word? tell me
+that. I don't care a damn what has been recorded in any law-book, or
+what decision wise old owls of judges have come to. Sich things don't
+cut any ice here. That man owns the land on which his cabin is built
+accordin' to the law of this country. In a frontier sich as this we make
+our own laws, an' I guess the one we make concernin' this affair won't
+be fer wrong. There'll be no red-tape about it, either, mark my word.
+Legally! Legally! h'm!" and Tom gave a grunt of deep disgust as he
+thrust the knife under the meat to turn it over.
+
+"Good for you, Tom!" Dick exclaimed. "I knew where to come for help,
+didn't I? You voice my feelings exactly. But we must not lose any time.
+I don't want Martin, and especially Nance, to get word of this matter.
+It would worry them, I believe, very much."
+
+"Oh, they shan't be bothered a mite, pard. As soon as I've had a snack
+to eat, I'll slip out an' have a talk with old Dad, an' a few others I
+kin trust. It's always well to have several at yer back in an affair
+like this. Talkin' does mighty little good with some chaps unless ye
+have plenty of power back of yer words. I've found that out time an'
+time agin. So as soon as we're through with breakfast you turn in to yon
+bunk, while I stroll around a bit. A few winks won't do ye any harm."
+
+When Tom had left the cabin Dick stretched himself out upon the one bunk
+the place contained. He did not believe that he could sleep, but felt
+that a little rest would do him good, and refresh him for the tramp back
+to the lake. He wished to return as soon as possible, and he hoped that
+Tom would go with him. He was anxious about Nance and Martin, for he did
+not know what tricks The Twins might be already planning.
+
+Thinking thus he slept, and when he opened his eyes an hour later Tom
+was standing by his side.
+
+"Feelin' rested, pard?" was the prospector's cheery greeting.
+
+"Yes," and Dick sprang out of the bunk as he spoke. "I am surprised at
+myself, for I didn't believe that I could sleep."
+
+"Ye were pretty well tuckered out, lad, so the nap 'ill do ye a world of
+good. But I think we'd better be away now. Several of the boys are
+more'n willin' to go with us. They're certainly roused up over what ye
+say The Twins did last night."
+
+Outside Dick found Dad Seddon, and three other men, all strong,
+powerfully built fellows. Tom had made a wise choice in asking these men
+to accompany him down stream. They were not given to many words, which
+was partly natural, and partly acquired through long years in the silent
+wilderness. But they were men in whose eyes lurked not the slightest
+semblance of fear. They were friends worth having, but enemies to be
+dreaded.
+
+Dick never forgot that rapid march down to the lake. Very little was
+said as they strode forward, and it was still early morning when
+Klutana's surface at length appeared to view. The miners were astir, and
+the confusion and bustle of a new day had already begun. But the five
+men headed by Tom did not pause until they had reached a tent of
+moderate size, situated on somewhat higher ground. Here the various
+claims were all recorded, and the Recorder was eating his breakfast,
+which was spread out upon an overturned empty soap box. He looked up
+with interest as the men appeared before him at the entrance of his
+tent.
+
+"Mornin', Tom," was his salutation. "Struck somethin' good, eh?"
+
+"Should say not," and Tom spoke in a low voice. "Have ye recorded any
+claims this mornin', Bill?"
+
+"Sure thing. But why do ye ask?"
+
+"Was it The Twins?"
+
+The Recorder's eyes opened wide in amazement, and he looked curiously at
+the rest of the men standing silently and grimly outside.
+
+"Have The Twins been here this mornin'?" Tom again asked.
+
+"Yes. They routed me up at a most unearthly hour."
+
+"Did they record claims over on yon bank?" and the prospector waved his
+hand toward the right.
+
+"Yes; over the Quaska. Said they had rich ground there."
+
+"D'ye know the locality?"
+
+"Not exactly. This whole region is so new to me that I hardly know one
+spot from another."
+
+"Bill," and Tom's voice sank to a deep hoarse whisper, "I believe that
+The Twins have staked Martin's place over the river."
+
+The Recorder gave vent to an exclamation of surprise. He reached over to
+a small rude shelf, and brought forth the book in which the various
+claims were recorded. This he studied for a few seconds, and then read
+off what he had written there that morning.
+
+"That's it, an' no mistake!" Tom cried. "The skunks! D'ye know where
+they are now, Bill?"
+
+"They left here some time ago, and seemed to be in high fettle. I didn't
+savvey their game, and so paid no attention to their movements."
+
+"Come, boys," and Tom turned suddenly to his companions, "I really
+believe that those devils are over the river now. Let's follow them, an'
+see what tricks they're up to. Thank ye, Bill, fer the information.
+We'll report to ye later."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE WAY OF A WOMAN
+
+
+"Daddy, what do girls do in the great outside world when they grow up?"
+
+Nance and Martin had just finished their breakfast. It was early, and
+the morning sun, streaming in through the window, fell athwart the
+table. Pete, the invalid, was still asleep, for the movements in the
+room had not disturbed him in the least. Martin looked curiously at
+Nance as she asked the question. He pushed back the bench upon which he
+was sitting, and began to fill his pipe. Nance sat with her elbows upon
+the table, her hands supporting her chin, watching him thoughtfully.
+
+"Young women generally get married," Martin at length replied. "That is
+about all they think of."
+
+"But suppose they don't get married, daddy?"
+
+"Then they stay at home and help their mothers."
+
+"But suppose they have no mothers, what then?"
+
+"Oh, they get out and shift for themselves."
+
+"And what do they do to make a living?"
+
+"Some become servants, others are clerks in stores, dressmakers, school
+teachers, and so on."
+
+"And some become nurses, do they not?"
+
+"Certainly; I forgot all about them."
+
+"Well, that is what I want to be, daddy."
+
+Martin looked up quickly into the flushed face of the young woman before
+him.
+
+"Who put such a notion as that into your head?" he quietly remarked.
+"Was it that young man?"
+
+"No, not altogether. I have been thinking about it for some time. Ever
+since I read the story of Florence Nightingale in one of my books I have
+longed to be a nurse. I am practising every day upon Pete, and I know I
+should like the work so much. I want to be of some use in the world,
+daddy."
+
+"But you are of some use, little one, of great use to me, at least. What
+would I do without you? You would go away, and I should be left alone."
+
+"But I am not of much use to you now," and there was a note of sadness
+in Nance's voice. "You are away all day long out on the hills, so we
+only see each other morning and evening. Once we were together all the
+time."
+
+Martin lowered the pipe from his mouth, and his eyes dropped. He knew
+how true were the words he had just heard, and his heart reproached him.
+Yes, he had spent most of his time on the hills since the arrival of the
+miners, and he had left Nance alone. He had almost forgotten her, in
+fact, so engrossed had he been with his own thoughts, and the perplexing
+questions which were always disturbing his peace of mind. But of these
+he could not speak to Nance. He had to bear his burden alone, and not
+even to the one who was so dear to him could he confide. He looked at
+her now longingly, and a great fear came over him lest in any way she
+should learn something about his past life. That she had perfect
+confidence in him he was well aware. How terrible it would be if she
+should hear what kind of a man he really was.
+
+"Are you not happy here, Nance?" and his voice was somewhat hoarse as he
+asked the question. "Would you like to go away? If so, we shall start at
+once. There will yet be time to cross the mountains, and catch the
+steamer on her return from the north. Then, when once outside, if you so
+desire, you can train to be a nurse."
+
+"No, no, daddy, I don't want to go away," Nance hastened to reply. "And,
+besides, there is no need of it, as I can be just as happy here. Some
+one will be needed to care for the miners, and why cannot I help?"
+
+"You are talking somewhat wildly, are you not?" Martin replied a little
+sharply. "Though you have cared for Pete, and have done it well, yet you
+know hardly anything about nursing. A very thorough training is
+necessary to make one proficient."
+
+"But I may learn here, daddy. Dick," and at the mention of the name the
+flush upon her face became more apparent--"told me that he expects a
+trained nurse in soon on one of the steamers."
+
+"Did he! Well that's news to me. Where is she to stay, pray?"
+
+"At the hospital, which is to be built."
+
+"H'm. Is that so?"
+
+"Yes. And Dick told me something about the woman he expects will be sent
+in to take charge of the hospital. She is known only as Nurse Marion.
+She has been working along the Yukon River for years, and she has done
+so much for the miners. They love her just like the soldiers loved
+Florence Nightingale. Dick thinks that she will come, for it is always
+she who goes into new places, and starts the hospital work. I do hope
+that Nurse Marion will come, for I long to see her. I never saw a white
+woman, except my mother, and I was too young when she died to know
+anything about her."
+
+"She was very beautiful, Nance," Martin replied, "and you look just like
+her."
+
+"Do I, daddy? I didn't know that I am beautiful. But if I look like my
+mother used to then I must be. You have often told me about Beryl, how
+beautiful she is, and I have often wished to look just like her. Dick
+says that Nurse Marion is beautiful, that she has a sweet face,
+wonderful eyes, and can sing better than any one he ever heard. He said
+that it is fine to hear her sing by the side of sick people. Her voice
+is so comforting, and she always seems to know exactly how the patient
+feels and so sings accordingly. Dick said that she had some great
+trouble in her life which turned her mind to nursing that she might help
+others who suffer. Oh, I think her life must be so grand. I know that I
+shall like her, and I hope that she will let me help her in the
+hospital. So you see, daddy, I will be of some use in the world, and be
+right near you at the same time."
+
+Martin made no reply to these words, for his mind was strangely
+disturbed. The description Nance had given of Nurse Marion made him
+think of Beryl. Yes, she, too, was beautiful, had a sweet face,
+wonderful eyes, a rich voice, and her life had been a troubled one. Tom
+had said that she had become a trained nurse after she had recovered
+from her illness. There was such a strong resemblance between Nurse
+Marion and Beryl that Martin felt that they must be one and the same
+person. Only the name puzzled him somewhat. But perhaps she had changed
+it when she entered the nursing profession as she had changed the whole
+manner of her life. And was it possible that she was coming, the only
+woman in the whole world whom he longed to see, and yet the only woman
+he dreaded to meet face to face? Yes, he knew something about those
+wonderful eyes of which Nance had spoken. With what a loathing scorn
+would they be turned upon him if he should ever see her again. But,
+then, that must never be. If the nurse proved to be Beryl she must not
+know that he lived at Quaska. A sudden impulse seized him to leave the
+place, such as had come over him when Dick Russell and the miners had
+arrived. Then it was for Nance's sake he had remained. Now this sudden
+longing to flee was restrained by a strong desire to behold once more
+the face of the woman who, during all the years of his voluntary exile,
+had been so much in his mind. He wondered if she had changed much since
+he last saw her at the church in the city years before. Would she
+recognise him if she met him now? he mused. It was hardly likely, for
+she would not associate a rough bearded man with the trim Martin Rutland
+she had known so long ago. But one thing was certain: she must never be
+allowed to cross the threshold of his house. If she did come to Quaska,
+and Nance should become acquainted with her it was only natural that
+Nance should wish to bring her home. No, such a thing must not happen.
+
+"Nance," and Martin lifted his eyes to the place where she had been
+sitting. He was surprised to find that she was not there.
+
+"What is it, daddy?" was her cheery response, as she came to his side.
+"I am looking after Pete, getting his breakfast."
+
+"Why, I didn't know that you had moved. I did not hear a sound."
+
+"And didn't you hear Pete and me talking?"
+
+"No, not a word," at which remark both Pete and Nance laughed heartily.
+Martin also smiled at what he called his own foolishness.
+
+"Nance, come close, I want to speak to you," he commanded. "Promise me,"
+and here his voice dropped to a whisper, "that if any white woman comes
+to Quaska you will never invite her to this house without speaking to me
+first."
+
+Seeing the surprised look upon Nance's face, he caught both of her hands
+in his, and held them firm.
+
+"Promise me," he ordered.
+
+"I promise, daddy," was the somewhat faltering reply.
+
+"There, that will do," and Martin released her hands. "You have never
+told me a falsehood, nor disobeyed me, so I know that I can trust you."
+
+Nance was deeply puzzled over Martin's words and manner. Never before
+had he spoken to her so sternly and mysteriously. She was disappointed
+as well, for she had been revolving in her mind of late what a great
+pleasure it would be to have Nurse Marion come over to their house very
+often. They would be such friends, so she had planned. And now she must
+always ask her father's permission, and even then he might not grant her
+request.
+
+A form bulking large in the doorway caused her to cease her meditation,
+and look keenly at a thickset man standing there. Without knocking he
+entered, followed by another man. The night prowlers had arrived to take
+formal possession of the claims they had staked.
+
+Martin rose to meet them, and looked inquiringly into their faces. They
+were strangers to him, and he thought that perhaps they had come to see
+the invalid.
+
+"Are you looking for Pete?" he asked. "He's over there," and he pointed
+toward the bunk.
+
+"Naw. We've come to see you," Dave replied. "We wish to inform you that
+you're settled upon our claims, an' we're here to give you notice to
+quit."
+
+Martin looked first at the one and then at the other, uncertain whether
+they were in earnest or only joking. But the expression upon their
+faces, and the look in their eyes told him that they meant business.
+
+"I don't understand you," he at length replied. "What do you mean by
+'claims,' and 'notice to quit'?"
+
+"Ye don't? Well, ye damn soon will," was the gruff response. "We've
+staked our claims upon the ground where your shanty is pitched. The land
+is ours, so you get out at once. See?"
+
+At these words Martin straightened himself up with a sudden jerk.
+
+"Don't you know that I own this place?" he asked. "I cleared this land,
+and built this house years and years ago. I hold it by possession. Why
+should you wish to take it from me? There is all the land on this side
+of the river unstaked. Can you not let me live here in peace? Why do you
+need my small piece of ground?"
+
+"That's nothin' to do with it," Sam retorted. "We've staked this spot,
+an' we want it, so that's all there is about it."
+
+"But suppose I am not willing to give it up, what then?"
+
+"Oh, we'll soon settle that," and the men laughed as they clapped their
+hands to their hip-pockets. "We've something here which speaks pretty
+loud, an' to the point."
+
+"But is this legal?" Martin insisted. "I have the land surely by
+possession, so it is mine by right of ownership."
+
+"Might is right in this country," and Dave spat contemptuously upon the
+floor. "That is the only law we know here, or pay any attention to."
+
+"Is that so?"
+
+These three brief words caused The Twins to look quickly to the right,
+and at once their faces underwent a marvellous change. Nance was
+standing there, with her lithe figure as straight as a reed. She was
+looking quietly along the barrel of Martin's rifle, and the slight
+forefinger of her right hand was gently pressing the trigger. The
+visitors had paid no attention to her before, so engrossed had they been
+with Martin. But now they suddenly realised that here was a new force to
+be reckoned with upon which they had not counted. Nance stood before
+them transformed. Her face was very pale, but her eyes glowed with the
+light of determination, which the two baffled men were not slow to
+notice.
+
+"I will shoot the first one of you that moves a hand," Nance warningly
+remarked.
+
+"Fer God's sake ye wouldn't, Miss," Dave faltered. "Ye don't mean it,
+surely?"
+
+"Indeed she does," Martin replied. "Don't fool with her if you value
+your lives. She's a dead shot, as many a grizzly has found out to his
+cost."
+
+In the silence which followed these words it was almost possible to hear
+the heart-beats of the two confounded men.
+
+"Are you going to leave this place?" Nance asked slowly and
+deliberately. "Will you promise never to come here to bother us again?"
+
+No response coming to this request, Nance continued:
+
+"I am going to count ten, and while I am doing it you can think over
+what I have said. That is all the time I shall give you.
+One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine----"
+
+"Hold, hold, Miss," Sam interrupted. "I'll leave. I'm not going to have
+my brains blown out."
+
+"So will I," Dave assented.
+
+"And you will never trouble us again?"
+
+"No, no," came simultaneously from both men.
+
+"Wait a minute," Nance commanded. "I am not through with you yet. Might
+is right, so you say. Just put your hands above your heads. There,
+that's better. Now, daddy, please take those weapons out of their
+pockets; they are not safe things for such men to carry."
+
+Never before had The Twins been in such a fix. It was bad enough to be
+held up, but to be held up by a woman was gall and wormwood to their
+reckless natures. Yet they had great respect for the blank frowning
+muzzle of that rifle, and the determined figure holding it so
+confidently in her hands. They did not dare to lower their arms, and
+they were forced to submit to the ignominy of having their revolvers
+removed from their hip-pockets.
+
+"Nice weapons these," Martin calmly remarked, as he held the two
+revolvers in his hands. "Suppose we keep them, Nance, as souvenirs. They
+might come in handy some other time. And perhaps they'll be useful now,"
+he continued, after a pause. "You say that you staked claims here last
+night, eh?"
+
+"Yes," was Dave's surly response.
+
+"Well, then, you can just go out and pull them up. Nance, keep the rifle
+upon them until they finish the job, and I'll bring these weapons along,
+too, in case they are needed."
+
+"Yes, daddy," Nance replied. "I am not going to lower this rifle until
+the stakes are all up, and these men have cleared out."
+
+The feelings of the two scoundrels were by no means enviable as they
+were ordered out of the house, and then commanded to undo their work of
+the past night. Not only were their hearts bursting with rage, but they
+felt very deeply the humiliation of their position. To be driven by a
+woman from stake to stake like slaves before a taskmaster upon whom they
+could not wreak their revenge was something they had never before
+experienced. Then, while in the midst of their work, the arrival of
+Dick, Tom, and the rest of the band, filled their cup of shame to
+overflowing.
+
+The miners took the whole situation in at a glance, and derisive shouts
+of laughter burst from their lips.
+
+"Hard at it, boys?" Tom shouted. "It's rather early, isn't it, to be
+workin' so hard?"
+
+"When did ye make up yer minds to obey a woman?" Dad asked. "Ye've
+changed yer tune since last winter about being bossed by any female, ha,
+ha!"
+
+"Got yer claims all worked?" sneered another. "Yer pullin' up yer stakes
+mighty soon. Where's yer clean-up?"
+
+To all of these jibes the two wretched men made no response. They
+hurried from stake to stake, and when the last had been torn out and
+thrown savagely upon the ground, they turned and faced their fair young
+captor.
+
+"Now, will ye let us go?" Sam snarled. He longed to express his feelings
+in more vehement words, but his courage was not equal to the occasion.
+
+"Yes, you may go now," Nance replied, as she dropped the butt of the
+rifle upon the ground. "My! that tired my arms."
+
+The Twins were about to scuttle away, when Tom stopped them.
+
+"Hold on a minute," he commanded. "I want a word with ye. Ye may
+consider yerselves mighty lucky to git clear of this job with whole
+skins. The lassie an' her dad have been mighty good to ye. Mebbe it
+wouldn't have been the same if we'd happened along a little sooner. Ye
+might as well know first as last, Dave Pelchie, and Sam Purvis, that if
+ye interfere with this property agin ye won't git off as easy as ye have
+this time. So git out of this as quick as ye kin, fer the sight of yer
+measly faces makes me sick."
+
+The miners watched for a while two defeated and crestfallen men as they
+skulked down to the river. Then, with Tom leading, they all shook hands
+with the heroine of the day.
+
+"We're proud of ye, Miss, that's what we are," Tom exclaimed.
+
+"Hear, hear!" agreed his companions.
+
+But Dick, as he took her hand, held it a little longer than the rest.
+Their eyes met, and though no word fell from their lips, a language
+which the others could not understand passed between them--the language
+of the heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+HEART SEARCHINGS
+
+
+Dad Seddon was delighted with the part Nance had taken in the drama
+which had just been enacted. His eyes beamed with admiration, and the
+somewhat surly expression vanished entirely from his face.
+
+"By the horns of a moose!" he exclaimed, turning toward the young woman,
+"I did feel mighty sore that first night ye beat me at chess. It was a
+great come-down, so I thought, to be licked by a woman. But I fergive ye
+now, fer ye've done a deed this mornin' which makes us all proud of ye."
+
+"How would you like another game?" Nance laughingly replied. "We haven't
+had one for some time."
+
+"What! this mornin'?"
+
+"Certainly. Right away."
+
+"It's a go. I'm there every time. Bring on the weapons of war, an' we'll
+have a royal battle."
+
+Tom and the rest smiled good naturedly at the old prospector's
+enthusiasm. They stayed for a while watching the two facing each other
+across the little deal table. Then, after a few words with Pete, they
+swung away from the cabin toward the river.
+
+"We've important business over yon," Tom had explained. "We may be
+needed there jist at present."
+
+All through the day Martin's mind was much concerned about the incident
+of the morning. He tried to reason out why The Twins should wish to take
+possession of his property when there was so much unclaimed land lying
+all around on that side of the river. He thought of the gold buried
+behind the house, and wondered if in any way the secret had become
+known. But who was there to tell the white men? he asked himself. Nance
+had not done so, he was quite sure of that. Then the Indians suddenly
+flashed into his mind. Perhaps they had been questioned as to the old
+diggings up the Quaska. The natives, no doubt, well remembered how he
+had dug there years ago. He at once thought of Taku. This Indian had
+been down the river among the miners at the time of the great stampede,
+and he might have told them something.
+
+Acting upon the impulse of the moment, he seized his hat and hurried
+over to the Indian encampment, straight toward Taku's house. He found
+the native and his wife at work upon the fish they had recently taken
+from the lake.
+
+"Doing a good business, Taku, eh?" Martin asked, sitting down upon a
+stone nearby.
+
+"Ah, ah," was the reply.
+
+"White men take all you catch, eh?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"Did the white men pay you well for your trip down the Heena this
+spring?" Martin further questioned.
+
+"Ah, ah. Good. Tobac, tea, gun, coat."
+
+"You were there when they got back from the Quaska?"
+
+"Ah, ah. Beeg tam."
+
+"What did they say about the gold, Taku?"
+
+The native paused at his work, and mused for a while.
+
+"Talk moche," he at length slowly replied. "No savvey beeg hole."
+
+"What hole?"
+
+"Up Quaska."
+
+"They asked you, did they? You told them?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"That I made the holes?"
+
+"Ah, ah."
+
+"And did you tell them where I put the gold?"
+
+"Ah, ah. Me tell two," and the Indian held up the fore and middle
+fingers of his left hand.
+
+"Oh, I see!" Martin responded, more to himself than to the native.
+
+He now comprehended everything, and how The Twins had learned about the
+hidden treasure. But how could he blame Taku? The Indian had not been
+told to keep the matter a secret. In fact, it had been of little
+importance to him then, as at that time he had no idea of the value of
+the gold the white man had unearthed.
+
+Leaving the encampment, Martin walked slowly back to his own house. He
+now understood the purpose of the two men who had staked their claims
+upon his land. It was the gold they wanted and nothing else. He was
+surprised, too, for he had often heard of the code of honour among
+miners and prospectors. Gold was seldom meddled with, and cabins were
+always left unlocked. A sneak-thief was looked upon with contempt, and
+considered the very essence of abomination.
+
+Martin stayed close around the house all day. He discussed with Nance
+what he had learned from Taku.
+
+"I do not feel safe, little one," he said. "Our house will be watched
+day and night."
+
+"Never fear, daddy," Nance replied. "Those two men will hardly venture
+back again. Most likely when the other miners hear of it they will drive
+them out of the place."
+
+It was only when Dick came over in the evening that they first learned
+what had happened in the mining town. The young man was much animated
+this evening, and told in an amusing way the whole story.
+
+"Tom is really a brick," he declared. "I knew that he was all gold, as
+the miners say, but it takes something out of the ordinary to stir him
+up. Then when he is once aroused it will be well for his opponents to be
+on their guard."
+
+"What has he been doing now?" Nance queried, unable to restrain her
+eagerness to hear about what had taken place over the river.
+
+"Well, as soon as we had left here this morning Tom got busy, and
+gathered most of the men together, and told them in his own quaint way
+about what had happened to The Twins."
+
+"Were they present?" Martin asked.
+
+"Indeed they were not. They kept pretty close to themselves all through
+the day, and didn't show their mean faces in public once. Tom was the
+orator, and the impression that he left upon his hearers was wonderful.
+He told in a most graphic manner how The Twins had pulled up the stakes
+at the point of a rifle, and how back of the rifle was a woman. You
+should have heard the miners laugh and jeer. Some were for stringing The
+Twins up to the nearest tree; while others wished to drive them out of
+the place at once. But Tom thought it best for all to agree to ask The
+Twins whenever they met them about the claims they had staked, and when
+they intended to begin work upon them. He suggested that they might
+mention as well about the beautiful moonlight nights, what shy creatures
+women are, and so on. He certainly did set it off in glowing colours,
+and the men were wildly excited over the idea. They agreed that it would
+be greater fun for themselves, and a severer punishment for the two
+rascals than driving them away from Quaska."
+
+"But will it be safe, do you think?" Nance asked. "The Twins might be so
+angry that they might do some harm."
+
+"Where are their revolvers?" and Dick's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Oh, they are safe," Martin laughed.
+
+"No; they won't shoot," Dick continued; "they are too cowardly for that.
+They are not only cowards but idiots as well to do what they did last
+night. Now, if some men had been in their place I doubt whether you
+would have got off as easily as you did. They would have done some
+mischief. But The Twins were too much afraid of their skins after you
+got the rifle levelled upon them."
+
+"Where did they stay while the meeting was going on?" Nance asked.
+
+"In their own tents. They must have known that something was astir, and
+that it was better for them to keep close."
+
+"And they didn't venture out for the rest of the day?"
+
+"No; stuck close at home. When the meeting was over several of the
+miners strolled by their tent and made some pretty pointed remarks,
+which The Twins must have heard and understood. It is evident that they
+can't stay hidden all the time, and they will certainly receive a
+bombardment when they do come out."
+
+"Has Tom gone back up river?" Martin asked.
+
+"Yes; on special business."
+
+"Special business? Of what nature?"
+
+"It concerns the building of a hospital. It will mean quite a cost in
+money and labour, and Tom and I have had several long serious talks over
+it of late. Before the miners dispersed this morning Tom sprang a
+surprise upon them as well as upon me. He told in a few plain words how
+very necessary it is that there should be a hospital built at Quaska for
+the sick and injured men. He referred to what you have been doing over
+here, and at that the miners gave a rousing cheer. I wish you could have
+heard them, it would have done you good. All agreed that Tom's
+suggestion was an excellent one, and they at once volunteered to help
+with the hospital as much as they could."
+
+Dick did not tell Martin and Nance of the little speech he had made, in
+which he had promised to give his services free, and how a nurse was
+expected on one of the incoming steamers. All this appealed strongly to
+the miners, and they had expressed their approval in no uncertain
+manner.
+
+Martin listened to all that Dick had to say about the hospital which was
+to be built, and his plans for the future. He noted the animated look
+upon the young man's face, and the old longing came back into his own
+heart to be up and doing at a similar undertaking. The missionary had
+much to live for, and the love which he had for his work was great. But
+what was there for him to do? he asked himself. Always a voice whispered
+in his ear, "Thou shalt not!" There was a barrier which separated him
+from that field of sacred work to which he had pledged himself years
+before.
+
+As the days passed this longing instead of subsiding increased. The fire
+of anger and rebellion, which for years had burned so fiercely in
+Martin's heart, died down. No longer did he look upon the Church as his
+great enemy, and all clergymen as bound menials. He saw things in a
+different light, and realised as never before that the beam was in his
+own eyes which had distorted his vision. In the past he had the spirit
+of pride and anger to sustain him. These were the crutches upon which he
+had depended. Though wounded, he had held up his head and stood upon his
+feet. The Church then was the overbearing monster, and there was a
+certain grim satisfaction in the thought that he had cast it off
+forever, and that it could affect him no longer. But now that these
+props had been removed, upon what could he depend? If at times during
+the past years of his exile he had suffered, it was as nothing to what
+he now endured. He fled to the hills under the pretence of hunting the
+mountain-sheep, and there he wrestled with the spectres of his shame and
+despair, which were his constant companions. At night he would return to
+his home, creeping along the trail with head bent, and face drawn and
+haggard. But as he neared his house his form would always straighten,
+his step quicken, and his eyes brighten as Nance came forth to greet
+him. In her presence he always tried to be cheerful. But at times he
+would forget himself, and while at supper he would slip back into the
+old mood which had held him in thrall throughout the day. Then as he
+crouched there with the wan dejected look upon his face Nance would
+watch him with apprehension, and sometimes would speak to him, asking if
+he felt ill. This would always startle Martin from his reverie, and with
+an effort he would make some excuse for his strange behaviour. Although
+Nance pretended not to see anything amiss with her father, she was,
+nevertheless, much concerned. Why did he leave her so often? she asked
+herself, and why those strange spells of absent-mindedness, and the
+haggard expression upon his face?
+
+After supper Martin would sit quietly by himself listening to the story
+of the hospital, for Dick came every evening, and he always had much to
+tell about his work during the day. Nance's eyes beamed with interest as
+he told of the cutting of the logs, floating them down the Quaska, and
+the struggle they had in dragging them up the bank to the right spot
+near the river where they were to erect the building.
+
+Dick worked as hard, if not harder, in fact, than any one else. He not
+only chopped, hewed, tugged and lifted all day, but he did all the
+planning as well, besides encouraging his co-workers. The miners took
+turns at the work, and every day there were several new volunteers. How
+full of thankfulness was the missionary's heart when at length the
+exterior of the building was almost completed. Of course there was much
+work still ahead of him. There were the walls to be chinked with moss
+and mudded; there were doors and windows to be made; the floor to be
+built; partitions to be put up; cots, tables, shelves, and other things
+to be constructed, which would take weeks of steady work. All this he
+expected to do himself, except for the occasional assistance he was sure
+to receive from Tom, Dad, and a few others.
+
+But what pleased the missionary more than anything else was the good
+will of the miners, and the hearty spirit in which they assisted him. He
+had been brought into close contact with a number of them, and they had
+all voted him a real good fellow.
+
+As Dick talked each night of the work done throughout the day, and what
+he hoped to do on the morrow, Nance would listen with the deepest
+interest. Martin would sit and smoke without saying a word. It was
+impossible for him not to like the young man, who was so thoroughly in
+love with his work. But the more Martin heard of the progress of the
+hospital, the deeper the iron entered into his soul. He did not actually
+envy the missionary, but how he longed to be full of such enthusiasm,
+and to be doing a work of a like nature. But this he knew could never
+be. Not for him could there be a return through that door which had
+closed to him forever. And as he watched the two happy ones before him
+he felt like a monster of deception. He presented to them the life of
+trust and honour, but they could not remove the veil and behold that
+other old life, which was ever grinning horribly upon him, giving him no
+rest day or night. How long could he keep this up? he asked himself.
+Would some one unmask him, or would he be forced to do it himself, that
+he might find the peace of mind which he so ardently desired?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE MEETING
+
+
+Every evening the missionary brought the news over the river as to the
+progress he was making upon the hospital. One room he had reserved for
+the nurse who should come, so he said, and he was fitting it up as
+comfortably as he could. This would be her home, and Nance when alone
+often wondered what it was like, and how it would look when the stranger
+arrived.
+
+"How are The Twins getting along?" Martin asked, as they sat one evening
+outside the door.
+
+"Oh, they left several days ago," Dick replied. "The place got too hot
+for them."
+
+"In what way? Did the miners threaten them with bodily injury?"
+
+"No, not a bit of it. They simply carried out the suggestion which Tom
+made at the meeting. On all sides, and at every opportunity The Twins
+were assailed with questions about the claims they had staked, when they
+intended to work them, and if they expected to get good results. To
+these they would either reply with oaths, or remain silent and slink
+away. If they happened to be present at the saloon, or where several men
+were gathered, the conversation was always sure to drift off to
+revolvers, and whether a woman could handle a rifle. Then some one was
+certain to ask The Twins for their opinion. I cannot tell you exactly
+how the whole thing was managed, but there was really nothing The Twins
+could do, though they were always boiling over with rage. The miners
+would talk of nothing else while they were present. Then one night the
+two scoundrels vanished, where to no one knows. The place is well rid of
+them. It will teach others to leave you alone after this."
+
+"I am so glad," Nance replied, "but I cannot help feeling sorry for
+those men. They did look so funny, though, pulling up the stakes, while
+Tom and the rest were making all kinds of remarks."
+
+"You have been a heroine among the miners ever since," Dick returned.
+"There is nothing that they would not do for you now. You are under
+their special protection, and they have vowed to lynch the first man who
+ever interferes with you or this place again."
+
+A blush suffused Nance's cheeks at these words, while Martin gave a sigh
+of relief. He had been worried and annoyed over the affray, but now he
+felt thankful that they were to be left undisturbed in the future.
+
+One morning, just a week after this conversation, Martin and Nance were
+aroused by several raucous blasts of a steamer. Rushing outside, they
+saw the _Northern Light_ ploughing across the lake, straight toward the
+new mining town. Her decks were black with people, and as the two
+watchers hurried to the shore they could see a number of women among the
+passengers. There was considerable excitement on board, and much
+cheering as well both on the steamer and on land, where the miners had
+gathered on the bank. There was no wharf, but the boat curved gracefully
+around, and as the water was deep, she was able to swing close to the
+shore. When tied up, and the gang-planks run out a great scramble took
+place, while the hum of voices fell strangely upon the ears of the two
+silent ones over the river. Nance was all excitement now. Never before
+had she beheld the forms of white women in the Quaska region, and she
+was most anxious for a closer inspection.
+
+"Oh, daddy!" she exclaimed, "those women must be nurses. Dick didn't
+expect so many, I am sure. Isn't it too bad that he is up at the
+diggings with Tom? Suppose we go over and tell them where he is?"
+
+But Martin laid a heavy hand upon her shoulder, which caused her to look
+up into his face in surprise. He surmised only too well who the women
+were, and the object of their visit into the country. But how should he
+tell Nance? How could he explain?
+
+"They are not nurses, little one," he at length answered, and then
+remained silent, uncertain how to proceed.
+
+"Not nurses! Then who are they?" and Nance looked her astonishment.
+
+"They are bad women who flock into every camp such as this. They drink,
+gamble, and--lead men astray."
+
+"Oh! I thought that all women were good, daddy."
+
+"Unfortunately not all. And look, Nance, you are not to have anything to
+do with those women, see?"
+
+"Yes, daddy," but a note of disappointment was apparent in Nance's
+voice. "But there may be nurses among them," and her face brightened at
+the thought.
+
+"Not likely. They would hardly have time to get the message from the
+_Northern Packet_, and return on this boat."
+
+Nance made no reply to these words, but stood silently watching the
+anxious crowd near the steamer. She was sorely grieved that she could
+not go over to the place, for she longed to look upon the white women,
+hear them talk, and to see how they were dressed.
+
+"When the nurse comes may I see her, and talk with her, daddy?" she
+presently asked.
+
+"Ye-s," was the somewhat reluctant assent. "I have no objection to your
+meeting with good respectable women, but not with such as have come on
+that steamer to-day."
+
+Nothing more was said about the matter then, and ere long they both went
+back to the house. But Nance was more restless than usual. The outside
+world of which she had so often dreamed was being brought to their very
+door, and her blood was being stirred as never before. She wanted to
+see, hear, and learn how people, and especially women, acted who had
+lived in the great world of civilisation. She wished to know of things
+of which she had been ignorant so long.
+
+About the middle of the afternoon Nance picked up her violin, and
+strolled over to the Indian encampment. She could express her feelings
+better upon the violin than in any other way, and Quabee was always so
+pleased to listen to her. She found the Indian woman near the shore, and
+received a hearty welcome. Quabee was squatting with several other
+native women upon the ground, watching with much interest the steamer
+lying against the opposite bank.
+
+"Come in canoe on water?" she asked, as Nance drew near.
+
+"What, over there?" and the latter pointed to the farther side of the
+lake.
+
+"Ah, ah. Go by beeg canoe, eh?"
+
+Nance was quite ready for the trip, as she would thus be able to go
+quite close to the steamer, and obtain a better view of the women.
+
+In a few moments the canoe was skimming over the surface of the lake,
+straight toward the steamer. Nance as well as Quabee wielded a paddle,
+and a pretty sight she presented, seated well astern, and guiding the
+craft as wilfully as she pleased. She saw several women standing near
+the bow of the _Northern Light_, and heard one exclaim: "Oh, look at the
+Indians in the canoe! How pretty!"
+
+During the brief space of time in which they were passing Nance was able
+to get a fairly good view of the women, and nothing escaped her eyes.
+They were young, good-looking, and their shapely figures were clad in
+neatly-fitting dresses, such as she had never seen before. She glanced
+at her own rough clothes, and for the first time realised how mean and
+humble they were. What must Dick think of her? she mused. Surely he had
+often compared her poor dresses with the handsome ones he had seen
+outside. She was now glad that her father had not consented to go over
+to the steamer that morning. What would the women have thought of her?
+She would have caused them no end of amusement.
+
+Nance was as eager to get away from the steamer as a few minutes before
+she had been anxious to be near it. Heading the canoe diagonally across
+the lake, she drove her paddle into the water with a sudden swish. In a
+short time she ran the craft around a sharp point into a little cove
+where the trees came close to the water's edge. Laying her paddle by her
+side she let Quabee run the canoe gently ashore, and then looked back
+over the route they had just traversed. The steamer was hidden from
+view, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
+
+A new mood was now upon her such as she had never experienced before.
+She longed to get away and hide from everybody, except her father and
+the Indians. She did not even wish to see Dick, for she could not bear
+for him to look upon her dressed in such humble clothes. Her heart beat
+fast as she thought of the many times they had been together, and she
+did not know that she was dressed differently from other white women.
+
+Nance, in fact, was wrong in thinking that her clothes made her look
+ridiculous. The material was rough, but the dress she wore was neat, and
+fitted to perfection her lithe figure. Had she only known that her
+simply-made garments seemed to Dick's eyes most becoming, she would not
+have felt so badly. There was nothing artificial or bizarre about them
+such as he had often seen upon women of her age. In fact, anything that
+she wore would have appeared appropriate to him, for she herself added
+the charm which was all essential.
+
+Knowing nothing of this, and considering herself a disgraceful and
+ungainly creature, Nance sat for some time in the canoe lost in thought.
+Quabee wondered at her unusual silence, and at length, turning, she
+pointed to the violin.
+
+"Mak' music, eh?" she nodded.
+
+Almost mechanically Nance picked up the instrument, tuned it, and began
+to play. After a few moments the old-time spirit came upon her. The
+music acted like a tonic. The heavy mood of depression disappeared, and
+her natural buoyant self reasserted itself. Tune after tune she played,
+and the sweet strains sounded out over the water.
+
+Presently Quabee touched Nance upon the arm, and motioned her to look to
+the right. Coming toward them was a canoe, containing a woman, and a
+white woman at that. Nance laid her violin carefully in the bottom of
+the canoe, and then fixed her gaze upon the approaching stranger. Her
+eyes grew large with wonder as the woman drew near. Never before had she
+beheld such a person. This must be one of the women who had come on the
+_Northern Light_, she thought. And yet she did not look bad. Surely her
+father must have been somewhat mistaken. That face with the large,
+expressive, pathetic eyes and sweet mouth could have no connection with
+evil. She noted the noble poise of her head, the erectness of her body,
+and the skilful manner in which she handled the craft. A sunny smile
+illumined the stranger's face, as she drew in the paddle and laid it
+across the canoe.
+
+"Pardon me," she began, noting the looks of astonishment upon the faces
+of the two women before her. "I heard the music floating across the
+water, and thought that there must be fairies hidden in this cove, and
+now I have found that I was right."
+
+Then an expression of sadness came into her eyes as she looked keenly
+upon Nance. She believed that this was one of the women who had come in
+on the _Northern Light_.
+
+"I didn't hear you playing on the steamer," she continued after a brief
+pause. "Where did you keep yourself and your violin hidden all the way
+up the river?"
+
+Then Nance knew that this stranger had mistaken her for one of the bad
+women of whom her father had spoken. At once her face flushed with
+resentment. No doubt this is one of them, she considered, and so she
+must not speak to her. She turned away her eyes and spoke to Quabee in
+the Indian tongue. The latter roused herself, seized her paddle and
+dipped it into the water. The stranger saw that in some way she had
+offended the young white woman, and she hastened to rectify her mistake.
+
+"Forgive me!" she cried. "I am afraid that I have made a foolish
+blunder. Let us introduce ourselves, and then perhaps we shall be able
+to understand each other better. I am Nurse Marion, and have come to
+this place to take charge of the new hospital. But the lake is so calm
+this afternoon that I could not resist the temptation of a ride over its
+glassy surface in this canoe which I borrowed from an Indian."
+
+Nance's face cleared instantly, and a sigh of relief escaped her lips.
+"Then you are not one of those women over there?" and she motioned
+toward the steamer.
+
+"No, no!" was the emphatic reply.
+
+"And neither am I. This is my home, and my name is Nance. This is
+Quabee, my Indian friend from childhood."
+
+"And have you really lived in this country all your life!" the stranger
+exclaimed in surprise.
+
+"Yes, ever since I was a little child. I live over there with my
+father," and she pointed to the right. "You cannot see the house as that
+point hides it from view."
+
+Nurse Marion was not slow in noting the correctness of Nance's speech,
+the beauty of her face, as well as her quiet dignity and natural
+refinement of manner. She was much impressed, and longed to know more
+about her.
+
+"Is your mother living here, too?" she asked. "I should like to meet
+her. I am so pleased that I shall have such nice neighbours."
+
+"My father and mother are both dead," Nance replied. "They were drowned
+when I was very little."
+
+"Oh! But you said that you lived with your father."
+
+"He is not my real father, though he has been one to me all my life, and
+I have known no other. He took me from the Indians after my parents were
+drowned, and we have lived here ever since."
+
+"And how did you learn to play the violin so well?"
+
+"My father taught me. He plays much better than I do. If you once heard
+him you would not wish to listen to me."
+
+"I should certainly like to hear him," the nurse returned, "and I hope
+to do so shortly, that is, if I may visit your home sometime. But how
+lonely you must have been in this country before the miners arrived."
+
+"Why no, I didn't mind it one bit. The Indians have always been very
+good friends to us, and Quabee here is almost like a mother to me. Then,
+there are so many beautiful things everywhere, the trees, birds,
+flowers, mountains, and this lake. I love them all."
+
+"But didn't you get lonely during the long winters, especially in the
+evenings?"
+
+"Not at all. We had our violins, and it was so nice to sit and play
+before the bright open fire. We had our books, too, and often a game of
+chess."
+
+"Books!" the nurse exclaimed in surprise. "Do you mean that you read
+them yourself?"
+
+"Certainly," and Nance laughed at the other's astonishment.
+
+"But how did you learn to read?"
+
+"My father taught me, as he taught me everything else."
+
+"He must be a remarkable man, and I should like to meet him."
+
+"Indeed he is, and he has always been so good to me."
+
+"You haven't told me his name yet, have you?"
+
+"It is Martin."
+
+"Martin what?"
+
+"Rutland--Martin Rutland."
+
+At these words Nurse Marion gave a slight start, but recovered herself
+immediately. Her cheeks, flushed by the exercise of paddling, became
+very white, while her eyes looked straight before her among the trees on
+the shore. That name brought back memories which she believed had long
+since been buried. Her brain throbbed as she endeavoured to piece
+together the things she had just heard. But for the name it would all
+have passed as a matter of general interest only. Now, however, it was
+different. She pictured to herself Martin Rutland as she had known him
+years ago. The last time they had been together he had played for her
+upon his violin. Then came the terrible blow, and she had not heard one
+word from him since. Could it be possible, she asked herself, that this
+was he? Had he fled away into the wilderness, and lived ever since among
+the Indians, caring for this orphan girl? She longed to ask more
+questions, but could not trust herself to do so just now. But she was
+determined to find out the whole truth, and Nance was the one who could
+help her. And suppose it really was Martin! Her heart beat wildly as she
+thought of it, and a sudden weakness came upon her. Had the people at
+the mission station down river been able at this moment to look upon
+Nurse Marion, who always was so calm and self-possessed, they would have
+been greatly surprised. But Nance and Quabee saw nothing unusual, so
+delighted were they in having this wonderful white woman near them.
+
+"Would you like to come with me to the hospital?" the nurse at length
+asked.
+
+"Oh, may I?" Nance replied. "It would be so nice."
+
+"We will go at once, then. Perhaps you would like to help me to fix up
+my room."
+
+The look in Nance's eyes told their own story of joy, as she dropped her
+paddle into the water, swung the canoe about, and headed it for the
+opposite shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+WITHIN THE LITTLE ROOM
+
+
+Nance's eyes were big with wonder as she walked by Nurse Marion's side
+from the shore of the lake up to the hospital. They did not go by way of
+the river, but landed near the steamer, and thus passed through the
+busiest part of the town. Quabee kept close behind Nance, and seemed to
+pay no attention to the curious glances which were cast upon her.
+
+Never before had Nance been brought into contact with so many people.
+When the stampede had taken place, and the prospectors and miners passed
+into the Quaska region, she had been astonished at the number of men she
+saw. But this crowd around her now was most bewildering. The natural
+timidity which she possessed with the creatures of the wild came upon
+her. She moved closer to the nurse, and the latter, noting that she was
+trembling with apprehension, placed her right arm caressingly around
+her.
+
+"There is nothing to fear, Nance," she soothed, speaking the maiden's
+name for the first time. "The men know who I am, and, see, some of them
+are lifting their hats. Though they are rough at times outwardly, they
+always respect a nurse from our mission."
+
+And not only did some of the men know Nurse Marion, but those who had
+come on the first steamer recognised Nance. They knew that it was the
+first time she had been over to the town, and they now showed their
+appreciation of her courage in defeating The Twins by lifting their hats
+to her as well as to the nurse. They were not slow to see the difference
+between the women who had entered the country merely for evil gain, and
+the one who had come to care for the miners. For the former they had
+uncouth remarks and jests, but for the latter only the highest regard.
+
+Nance was greatly relieved when at last the hospital was reached. The
+large room, which was to be used for patients, was all finished except
+the fitting up of the cots. The place was fresh and new, just as the
+workmen had left it. Everything was rough, from the walls and the roof
+to the floor of whip-sawn planks, and the rude standees where the
+patients would be placed. Several large well-filled canvas sacks were
+lying upon the floor, which Nance eyed curiously.
+
+"They are all filled with bedding, and things to brighten up the room,"
+the nurse explained. "We had to work almost night and day to get things
+ready to catch the _Northern Light_. We had such a short time in which
+to do it after we received Mr. Russell's letter calling for a nurse."
+
+"It is too bad that Dick isn't here now," Nance replied. "He didn't know
+that you were coming to-day, or I am sure he would not have gone up
+river."
+
+"Who is Dick?" the nurse asked. "I never heard of him before."
+
+"Why, the missionary, of course. The men all call him Dick here, and he
+told me to do the same."
+
+"Oh, I see," Nurse Marion mused. She nevertheless looked keenly into the
+face of the young woman before her, but she saw only the perfect
+innocence of a child in her clear blue eyes.
+
+After a while they passed into the room where the nurse was to live.
+This was a bright cosy place, and Nance was delighted as she looked
+eagerly around.
+
+"And this will be your home!" she exclaimed. "How nice it will be!"
+
+"Yes, when it is fitted up," was the reply. "You will help me, will you
+not? I have unpacked some of my things, but there is much to do yet."
+
+Nance was greatly pleased to be of any assistance, so, directed by the
+nurse, she at once set to work, while Quabee, squatted upon the floor,
+watched with great interest all that was going on around her.
+
+Nurse Marion was pleased and also surprised as she observed the deft way
+in which Nance busied herself about the room. She did everything so
+quietly, and yet speedily. At times the nurse found herself neglecting
+her own work and watching the movements of the girl in whom she was
+becoming so much interested. Where did she learn all these things? she
+asked herself. Her foster-father must surely be a most remarkable man.
+She thought, too, of his name, and wondered how she was going to find
+out more about him, and whether he was the same man she had known years
+before.
+
+An idea came suddenly into her mind as she knelt by the side of a small
+bag she was unpacking. She hesitated at first, but at length she drew
+forth a package, carefully tied with a faded blue ribbon. She held it in
+her hand for a while before opening it. How well she remembered the sad
+day after her illness when, with trembling hands, she had tied up that
+little package. She had never opened it since, although she had carried
+it with her wherever she went. Slowly now her fingers loosened the
+knotted ribbon, and smoothed out the paper wrapping. Nance saw what she
+was doing, and with the impetuosity of a child knelt by her side.
+
+"What are they?" she asked, observing several pieces of cardboard.
+
+Nurse Marion lifted up the one on top, and turned it over.
+
+"Why, it's the picture of a man!" Nance cried. "He is young, too, and so
+good looking. Doesn't he wear a funny collar? Is he your brother?"
+
+"No, no, not my brother, Nance. He is some one I knew long ago, but I
+haven't seen him for years."
+
+She then picked up another photograph, showing the same young man clad
+in his robes of office. It was a good likeness, and the nurse caught her
+breath as she looked upon it. How often in the happy days of old she had
+held that picture before her and studied the fine face, the clear eyes,
+and the dark hair brushed back carelessly from the brow. How full was
+her young life then, he was her hero, and the future was very bright.
+
+"What a funny dress!" Nance exclaimed. "I never knew that men wore such
+things."
+
+"He was a clergyman when I knew him," the nurse replied, "and during
+service he always wore his robes, which you see here."
+
+"Do all wear them?"
+
+"No, not all."
+
+"Does Dick?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so when he holds service. All the clergymen of the
+Church to which I belong do."
+
+Nurse Marion's little ruse had failed. She thought that perhaps Nance
+might recognise the photographs of her foster-father. But not a sign of
+recognition did she give, so the nurse slowly and thoughtfully folded up
+the pictures, tied once more the ribbon around them, and placed them
+back in the bag.
+
+In her own mind Nurse Marion held one clear vision of the Martin Rutland
+she had known. To her he had not changed in the least, and she could not
+dream of him as a long-bearded man, hair streaked with grey, and hands
+rough and toil-worn. When, therefore, Nance did not recognise him in the
+photographs the nurse began to think that he could not be the same man
+to whom she had once given her heart and hand. And yet she was not
+satisfied. The idea which had taken possession of her haunted her still,
+and while her hands were busy her mind kept constantly dwelling upon the
+name. The sight of the photographs had brought back memories which she
+could not stifle, try as she might. She talked with Nance, and seemed to
+be in the gayest of moods as they fitted up the room, using every effort
+to overcome its bareness with the few meagre things she had brought with
+her. When they were at last through they both sat down upon the little
+cot, which was to be the nurse's bed.
+
+"This certainly does look more homelike now," the nurse declared,
+looking approvingly around the room. "You have been such a help to me,
+as well as company. I do not like to work alone."
+
+"It is so nice here," Nance replied. "May I come often? You do not know
+what it means to have a white woman to talk to."
+
+"But it seems to me that you have learned many things here in the
+wilderness, Nance. Unless you had told me I could not believe that you
+had never been with a white woman before. I suppose it was your father
+who taught you so much."
+
+"Yes, daddy has been so good, and he knows most everything. Besides, I
+learned so much from the books I read, and how white women lived and
+talked. But there is one person who has been of such great help to me."
+
+"What, some one living here?" the nurse asked.
+
+"Oh, no. I have never seen her, but I have heard much about her."
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From daddy. When I was quite young he told me many things about her,
+and I have always kept her in my mind, and tried to be just like her."
+
+"Indeed! Tell me more, please," and the nurse settled herself in a more
+comfortable position.
+
+"Well, when I was very small daddy used to tell me fairy tales, which
+were so interesting. The one I liked best of all was about the man who
+had a beautiful garden. There were all kinds of flowers, and he had to
+care for them. Then one day he hurt one of the flowers, and he was not
+allowed to look after the garden any longer. He went away and wandered
+about from place to place for years. At last he went into the
+wilderness, and there he found a little flower, which he took with him,
+and they lived together for a long time. The name of that little flower
+was Heart's Ease. Don't you think it is a pretty story?"
+
+"And was Heart's Ease the name of the woman you had in your mind all of
+these years?" and the nurse looked questioningly into the face of the
+young story teller.
+
+"Oh, no. There was another. Daddy told me about one of the flowers in
+the garden which felt so badly at what the gardener did. He said it was
+the most beautiful flower of all. Then when I got older he told me that
+this flower was a woman, very lovely, with wonderful eyes, and that she
+could sing so beautifully."
+
+"Oh!" This involuntary exclamation came from Nurse Marion's lips as she
+sat erect upon the cot. Her form trembled, and her face was white. She
+now began to read this story in its true light, and what was merely a
+fairy tale to Nance, to her was terribly real.
+
+"Yes," Nance continued, "the flower was a woman, and daddy told me so
+much about her that I wanted to be like her. I would sit hour after hour
+thinking about her, and wondering how she looked and talked. She seemed
+very real to me. Isn't it funny," and Nance turned toward the nurse,
+"that when I look at you and listen to you I imagine that you are my
+Beryl?"
+
+"Beryl!" The word came from the nurse's lips like a startled cry. She
+grasped Nance's arm, and looked into her eyes. "Did you say the woman's
+name was Beryl?"
+
+"Yes, that was her name. But are you sick?" she asked, noting the
+other's white face and excited manner.
+
+"No, no, I am all right now," and the nurse gave a little hollow laugh.
+"I was so much interested in your story that I forgot myself for the
+moment."
+
+All doubt was now removed from Nurse Marion's mind as to the identity of
+Nance's foster-father. It could be no one else, she felt sure of that.
+She rose to her feet and looked out of the little window at the east
+side of the house, but saw nothing beyond. Her brain was throbbing, and
+her hands were firmly clenched. What was she to do? she asked herself.
+Would it be possible for her to remain in this place, so near to the
+man, the history of whose life she so well knew, and who had almost
+broken her heart? Would it not be better for her to go back on the
+_Northern Light_, and send some one else in her place? But how could she
+explain such a move on her part to the people at the mission station
+down river? Would it not appear cowardly as well? No, she must stay and
+face whatever might come.
+
+This decision once reached a sense of peace stole into her heart. Strive
+as she might she could not banish the desire to see Martin Rutland once
+more. But she did not wish to see him face to face and thus have him
+recognise her. No, that would never do, the gulf was too deep and wide
+between them ever to be bridged again. If she could see him and not be
+known herself that would be a degree of satisfaction. She longed to know
+if he had changed much, and how the years of his remorse had dealt with
+him.
+
+An exclamation of surprise startled her and caused her to turn quickly
+around. There in the doorway stood the missionary with an expression of
+intense wonder stamped upon his face. His eyes swept the room in one
+swift comprehensive glance, resting upon Quabee, Nance, and, last of
+all, the woman standing before the window.
+
+"Why, Nurse Marion," he began, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from
+his astonishment, "I had no idea that you were here. It is too bad that
+I happened to be away when the steamer arrived. I am so sorry that I was
+not on hand to welcome you. But if it is not too late, allow me to do so
+now," and stepping across the room he held out his hand.
+
+"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Russell," the nurse laughingly replied. "I have
+been well looked after, and have been having such an interesting time."
+
+"I am glad of that," and Dick turned and looked fondly upon Nance, whose
+face was now beaming with joy. "I might have known that everything would
+be all right."
+
+Nurse Marion saw the look of complete understanding which passed between
+the two, and she needed no words to explain its significance.
+
+"You have made a very cosy room for me here, Mr. Russell," she remarked,
+"and I wish to thank you for what you have done. I am sure that I shall
+be comfortable."
+
+"It is not so bad, considering what has been done," and Dick glanced
+approvingly around. "My, I am glad that you are here. A poor chap got
+badly hurt out at the diggings, and several miners are bringing him in
+over the trail. I hurried on ahead to see if I couldn't fit up a place
+in here to keep him."
+
+Nurse Marion was all alert now. "We can fix up a cot at once," she
+replied. "If you will open the bales, Nance will help me to get ready,
+won't you?" and she turned to the interested girl at her side.
+
+"Oh, may I?" Nance responded, eager to be of any service to this woman,
+who seemed such a wonderful person in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE RIVER FLOWS BETWEEN
+
+
+"Where have you been, Nance? I was getting uneasy about you."
+
+Martin was standing in the door as Nance approached. He noted the
+expression of happiness upon her face and the buoyancy of her step.
+
+"Oh, daddy, I have had such a great time!" was the reply. "I have been
+over to the hospital."
+
+"To the hospital! What in the world took you there?"
+
+"It was Nurse Marion. I have met her, and she is wonderful."
+
+At these words Martin started, and glanced across the river to the log
+building perched upon the opposite bank. He then turned to Nance.
+
+"Come, little one; supper is ready. I have been waiting for you for some
+time."
+
+Nance was too greatly excited to eat much. Seldom had Martin seen her so
+animated, as she described in detail her afternoon's experience.
+
+"I wish you could see her, daddy," and Nance's eyes sparkled with
+enthusiasm as she turned them upon Martin's face. "You really must.
+Won't you take me over this evening? I know she would like to see you.
+She asked me many things about you."
+
+"She did?" Martin questioned with averted face.
+
+"Yes, several times, and I told her how you taught me to play the
+violin, to read, and, in fact, all I know is due to you. She was greatly
+interested, and said that you must be a wonderful man."
+
+"Did she ask you what my name was?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I told her, too, that you were not my real father, but that
+you had brought me here when I was a very little child."
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She seemed surprised, and asked if I didn't find the life here very
+lonely."
+
+"Go on," was Martin's only comment as Nance paused.
+
+"It was so nice in her room, and she let me help her fix it up. Daddy, I
+wonder if all white women--I mean good ones--are like Nurse Marion."
+
+"Why do you ask, Nance?"
+
+"I hardly know how to explain," the girl replied, looking thoughtfully
+before her. "Nurse Marion is very beautiful, but there is something
+about her I cannot understand. Her eyes are wonderful. They seem to be
+always seeing things far away. Even when she was smiling there was a sad
+expression in her eyes. Do you know, daddy, I believe that she has had
+some great trouble in her life."
+
+"What makes you think so, Nance?"
+
+"It was the way she stood at times, and looked just at nothing. She
+wondered how I knew so many things, having lived all my life in the
+wilderness. I told her that you taught me, and that I got help from the
+books I read. I told her, too, about Beryl, and----"
+
+"You did!" Martin exclaimed. "What did she say?"
+
+"She listened until I was through, and then she went and looked out of
+the window for some time."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes, it seemed to make her sad. But that wasn't all. When we were
+unpacking her things she came to a small package, wrapped in paper, and
+tied with a piece of faded blue ribbon. She opened it and showed me two
+pictures of a clergyman, so she said."
+
+"What! But go on, Nance. Don't stop."
+
+"In one picture the man was dressed in a funny way, 'in his robes of
+office,' so Nurse Marion said. I thought he must be her brother, but she
+told me that he was a man she knew years ago. He was young,
+fine-looking, and----"
+
+"You wash up the dishes, Nance," Martin interrupted. "I am going outside
+for a while."
+
+With that he strode to the door, leaving Nance sitting at the table,
+thinking over what she had seen and heard, and dreaming, of the time
+when she would be a nurse like the woman over the river. She noticed
+nothing strange about her father's sudden departure. If she had thought
+of it at all she would have attributed it to a lack of interest in what
+she had been talking about.
+
+She had barely got the dishes washed and put away, when Martin returned,
+bringing with him Tom and Dad Seddon. Hearty were the greetings which
+fell from the lips of the two prospectors when their eyes rested upon
+Nance.
+
+"We couldn't stay away any longer," Tom remarked, as he gave the young
+woman's hand a hearty shake. "We've been jist dyin' to see ye. Dad's got
+several chess problems up his sleeve all ready to hand out."
+
+"That's good," Nance laughingly replied. "I haven't had a game for some
+time. Would you like to have one now?"
+
+"Sure thing; that's if you have time."
+
+Soon the board was spread out, the chessmen arranged, and the two
+players faced each other, while Martin and Tom sat near at hand smoking
+and watching the game.
+
+"How did you happen to come in to-day?" Nance asked, turning to Tom, as
+she waited for Dad to make a move.
+
+"We brought in Tim Cyr, who got knocked out at the diggin's, an' a
+mighty surprise was waitin' fer us when we got to town, I can tell ye
+that."
+
+"Oh, I know," Nance eagerly replied. "You found Nurse Marion there,
+didn't you? Isn't she lovely?"
+
+"Indeed she is, Miss. She's all gold, if I don't mistake. Ye should have
+seen the way she looked after Tim an' helped the doctor. Why, I never
+saw anything like it."
+
+"And didn't she have things fixed up in great shape," Dad remarked,
+taking his eyes for the first time from off the game.
+
+"Oh, I guess somebody helped her with that," Tom chuckled. "She told me
+all about it."
+
+"Did she?" and the look on Nance's face showed her delight. "It was so
+nice to be there. She is the first white woman I ever met, and I hope to
+see her often."
+
+"Ye won't find all like her, remember, Miss," and Tom's voice had a note
+of pathos in it. "She is one in a thousand. Not many would be willin' to
+come in here to help us poor critters. Now, them other women, they're
+here fer no good, an' they're bound to cause a lot of trouble. Something
+has got to be done, an' I believe that the parson'll take a hand in the
+matter to save the boys. Before the women came there was the whiskey.
+Now, with both women an' whiskey things are bound to be pretty lively.
+The saloon is goin' full blast, an' the parson has been worryin' a good
+deal. It was in kernection with this matter that he visited us at the
+diggin's to-day. He outlined his plan, an', by jiminey! we're goin' to
+help him."
+
+"Sure thing," Dad assented, as he swung up his queen, in an effort to
+corner Nance's king. "We'll stand by the parson. Check!"
+
+"Mate!" Nance triumphantly cried, bringing up a knight, and completely
+cornering Dad's king.
+
+"Well, I'll be jiggered!" the prospector exclaimed, as he studied the
+clever trap into which his opponent had led him. "I didn't see what you
+were up to till the last. My! that was well done, an' you certainly do
+deserve the game," and he lifted his eyes, filled with admiration, to
+the flushed face of his fair young woman, who had outwitted him so
+cleverly.
+
+"I hope the parson'll do as well at his game over yon," Tom quietly
+remarked. "I'm afraid there'll be many checks before it's mate in his
+case. But he's got good grit, an' that's a great thing in his favour.
+He's made a fair start so fer in gittin' the hospital built, an' havin'
+a nurse brought in. As soon as the boys see that he goes in fer
+practical religion, an' if they've eyes at all they must surely see it
+by now, then they'll be with him. I think that next Sunday 'ill tell the
+tale."
+
+"What's going to happen next Sunday?" Martin quietly asked.
+
+"Didn't I tell ye? No? Well, that's queer," and Tom ran the fingers of
+his right hand through his long hair. "To think that we fergot to
+mention sich an important piece of news, an' it was what took the parson
+all the way out to the diggin's fer, too."
+
+"Quit yer croaking, Tom, and come to the point," Dad growled. "If you
+don't I'll have to."
+
+"Feelin' sore over yer lickin', are ye?" Tom bantered. "Well, the parson
+has been doin' some serious thinkin' of late, an' so he wanted our
+advice. He knew that the miners at Quaska an' on the creeks need some
+attraction to keep them away from the saloon, an' to give 'em 'an'
+uplift,' as he calls it. He, therefore, suggested that we hold a bang-up
+service next Sunday night in the hospital. We agreed that it was a fine
+idea, an' promised that we'd do all we could to round up the boys. I
+don't think there will be any trouble in gittin' 'em, especially if
+there's plenty of music an' singin'. With two fiddles a-playin' the boys
+'ill do the rest."
+
+This mention of the violins was a little ruse on Tom's part in order to
+see how Martin would take it. But the latter made no comment. He sat
+very still, looking straight before him, and Tom alone noted the
+expression upon his face, from which he surmised that the quiet man was
+fighting a fierce, stubborn battle.
+
+"Ye'll play, lassie, won't ye?" Tom asked, turning to Nance. "I know
+that the boys would like it great, an' the parson--well, he'll about
+stand on his head."
+
+"I should dearly love to play," Nance laughingly replied, "that is, if
+daddy will let me. But perhaps I might break down in the presence of so
+many men. I am sure to get nervous, and will hardly know what I am
+doing."
+
+"Don't let that trouble ye, Miss," Tom hastened to reply. "Ye have the
+nurse with ye. Maybe she sings, an' if she does so much the better.
+Then, if everything goes off well at the first service, the boys 'ill be
+sure to flock back ag'in, an' the saloon will be a heavy loser."
+
+Martin sat for a long time outside the door of his house after the two
+prospectors had gone home. Nance, tired out, was asleep. Sounds from the
+mining camp fell upon his ears. He could hear the loud talking and
+laughing, mingled occasionally with the voices of women. Lights twinkled
+here and there throughout the town, while the saloon down by the lake
+was ablaze with numerous candles. A hilarious time was being held there,
+he well knew. He compared the scene now with what it was before the
+miners came. Then peace and quiet dwelt over the entire place instead of
+the discords which were making the night hideous.
+
+One small light, trailing out into the darkness, held Martin's
+attention. It came from the hospital, and he thought of the woman there
+who was keeping watch over the patient. This was her first night at
+Quaska, and he realised how lonely she must be. He had no doubt now that
+it was Beryl. The description which Nance had given, and what she had
+told him, made him certain that it could be no one else. He marvelled
+how strangely it had come to pass that she of all women should come to
+Quaska. He thought, too, how differently their lives would have been but
+for his own terrible fall. No doubt they would be living in their own
+happy home, respected by all. But oh, how opposite the reality. There
+was Beryl, lonely in that building over yonder, and he himself a
+dejected outcast, with the future holding not a ray of hope, and the
+past only gall and wormwood. What would Beryl think and do, he wondered,
+if she knew that he was so near, with only the river flowing between?
+But she must never know, so he told himself. Then a great longing came
+upon him to see her, to look upon her face once more. It would be so
+easy, he mused, to slip over the river, and peer in through the window
+from which the light was streaming. He banished this idea, however, as
+unmanly, and so contented himself with thinking about Beryl as he knew
+her in the sweet old days before they were separated.
+
+And so on this night while Martin sat and dreamed, a lonely,
+tear-stained-faced woman stood at the little window of her room and
+gazed out into the night, thinking of him, who was so near, and yet so
+far away. And between these two flowed the silent river, dark and swift
+on its way to the deep lake below.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE FACE AT THE DOOR
+
+
+Next morning Nance was up earlier than usual. Her step was light as she
+moved about the room preparing breakfast. She was happier than she had
+been for many a day, for the meeting with Nurse Marion had a wonderful
+effect upon her young life. She was thinking now of everything the nurse
+had said. She wanted to be like her, and then she was sure that Dick
+would not be ashamed of her. She thought, too, of the hospital, and how
+delightful it would be to assist with the patients. She was very anxious
+to be over there, for she felt certain that the nurse would need her.
+
+The idea of a service on Sunday night interested her very much. She had
+some doubt about her ability to play. She felt sure that she would be
+nervous, and perhaps break down. But then she knew that Dick and the
+nurse would help her out, so everything would be all right. She wondered
+if her father would go over to the service. If so, and he consented to
+play, it would make it so much easier for her.
+
+While these thoughts were running through Nance's mind Martin drew
+near. He had taken his early morning walk as usual, after having made on
+the fire and called Nance. He heard her humming a tune before he reached
+the door, and he was not slow in detecting the note of happiness which
+could only come from a heart overflowing with peace and joy. He paused
+upon the threshold to look upon her. Though always fair and graceful to
+his eyes she seemed to excel in loveliness as she stood before him this
+morning.
+
+Nance greeted him with a bright smile as he entered the room.
+
+"Breakfast is all ready, daddy. You must be hungry."
+
+"Indeed I am," was the reply. "My walk has sharpened my appetite."
+
+Together over the meal the two discussed the affairs at the mining town.
+The scraps of news they had heard were of much interest. But Nance's
+mind was upon Nurse Marion, and about her she talked. She told her
+father over again what had happened at the hospital on the previous day.
+Martin did not attempt to restrain her. In fact, he did not wish to do
+so now. He listened attentively to every word she uttered, and at times
+found himself leaning eagerly forward that he might not miss anything.
+
+"And only think, daddy!" she cried, "Nurse Marion wants me to help her
+whenever I can. She said she was so pleased to have me, and I told her
+that I would go if you would let me. And you will, daddy, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, little one, if it will make you happy. I can trust you with--with
+Nurse Marion."
+
+"But I will look after our house, daddy, just the same. I will cook,
+wash, and do all the house work. I shall get up very, very early, and
+attend to it. Then I can spend the afternoons at the hospital, and learn
+so many things from Nurse Marion. I long more and more to be a nurse,
+and I know that she will teach me. Won't it be strange, daddy, to see
+the hospital full of miners next Sunday?"
+
+"It certainly will, Nance. But perhaps not many of them will be there."
+
+"You will go, daddy, will you not?" Nance asked. "I don't see how I can
+play alone. If you are there I shall not mind it one bit."
+
+"Nance?" and Martin looked straight into the maiden's eyes as he uttered
+her name.
+
+"Yes, daddy."
+
+"I want you to promise me two things."
+
+"Yes, daddy."
+
+"You are never again to ask me to go to any service across the river,
+neither are you to inquire as to the reason why I wish you to promise me
+this."
+
+"Yes, daddy, I promise," was the faltering response.
+
+"That's good. Now don't forget, little one."
+
+Martin's mind was now doubly agitated. He became exceedingly restless,
+and spent most of his time out on the hills. Here, and alone, he could
+brood over the strange events which had come so recently into his life.
+Besides the deep stirring of his heart, owing to Beryl's arrival, he was
+face to face with the question of the service to be held at the hospital
+Sunday night. His thoughts went back to the days when he would have
+looked forward with joy for the time to arrive when he could take part
+in the beautiful service of the Church to which he had once belonged.
+But now an outcast, not only by his bishop, but also by his own
+conscience, the punishment was almost more than he could endure. How
+truly did he understand the words of the aged bishop. He had laughed
+scornfully at them then, little realising how terribly true they were,
+and how the day would come when their fulfilment would give him such
+intense mental agony.
+
+Often he would sit under the shade of some tree, and look down over the
+lake, especially upon the hospital, which appeared like a speck in the
+distance. He would picture Beryl--not Nurse Marion to him--moving about
+the building, and attending to the wants of the patient. He knew that
+Nance was there most of the day, talking with Beryl, and looking into
+her face. The latter was constantly before him, not as a nurse, with
+hair streaked with grey, but as he had seen her seated at the piano on
+that Christmas eve as he watched her through the window of her old home.
+All the love which he then had for this beautiful woman came back upon
+him with greater intensity now because of the smouldering fire of long
+years, and the thought that she could never be his, nor could he speak
+to her, nor listen to her voice.
+
+Every night Martin would come back home with face drawn and haggard, and
+an absent, far-away look in his eyes. Nance became much worried about
+him, and confided her trouble to Dick.
+
+"Perhaps it is the arrival of the miners that is affecting him," the
+latter suggested.
+
+"It may be that," Nance mused. "Still I cannot understand him. He is
+away from home most of the day, and when he comes back he looks so
+strange. I asked him to go to service Sunday night and play with me."
+
+"Will he?" Dick eagerly inquired. "That would be such a help."
+
+"No, he will not go, and he made me promise that I would never ask him
+again."
+
+"Why? I wonder."
+
+"He made me promise further that I would never ask him to tell the
+reason why he would not go."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Dick was as much puzzled as Nance over Martin's strange behaviour, and
+the next day he mentioned the matter to Tom. It was Sunday afternoon,
+and the prospector had come into town to be early for the service, and
+to assist in any way he could with the preparations.
+
+"So he refused to come an' play, did he?" Tom questioned.
+
+"Refused point-blank, so Nance said, and he made her promise that she
+would never again ask him to go to service, nor the reason why he would
+not do so. Now, what can you make out of that?"
+
+"He's a reason, no doubt," was the reply.
+
+"Don't you remember, Tom," Dick continued, "how strangely he acted when
+we first came to his house last spring?"
+
+"I haven't fergotten, pard. He certainly did act queer. It was a problem
+to me."
+
+Tom didn't say that it was a problem no longer. He understood now very
+well why Martin was unwilling to attend the service, and accordingly had
+demanded those promises from Nance. But nothing would induce him to
+divulge any of the knowledge of Martin's past life which he himself had
+acquired. "What people don't know about sich things," he had said to
+himself, "won't do any harm, an' it might make matters very
+uncomfortable fer Martin an' the lassie."
+
+Martin was unusually quiet all day Sunday. He did not go out to the
+hills, but sat under the shade of a large tree near the house, reading,
+or pretending to do so. Nance was with him most of the day reading a
+book Nurse Marion had let her have. It was entitled "In the Service of
+the King," and dealt with the work of trained nurses in all lands.
+Several chapters told of the heroic services of devoted women in the
+mission fields. Nance was thrilled and delighted with the book. At times
+she would call her father's attention to some striking passage, and read
+it to him.
+
+As the afternoon waned Nance left home, for Nurse Marion had invited her
+to tea in her little room.
+
+"You do not mind my leaving you, daddy?" she asked, putting her arms
+around his neck, and giving him an affectionate kiss.
+
+"I am always pleased to see you happy, little one," Martin replied with
+a smile.
+
+But as he watched her as she moved lightly down to the canoe, carrying
+her violin with her, a great loneliness swept over him. He knew that in
+reality Nance's heart was not with him, but over the river with Dick and
+the nurse. The thought that she could go to the service with such a
+free-from-care spirit pressed heavily upon his soul. He saw now that the
+time was not far off when she would be no longer with him to kiss him
+good-bye. A new life of freedom and service was opening up to her, while
+for him the future held only misery in store. The associations of the
+wilderness would attract Nance but a little longer, he could see that,
+and then he would be left alone.
+
+Martin prepared his supper, but ate little, as he missed the familiar
+form at the head of the table. He soon pushed back his stool, rose and
+went to the door. The room appeared unbearably close to-night, and he
+needed the freshness of the open air. He sat outside, lighted his pipe,
+and smoked. His eyes were fixed constantly upon the hospital across the
+river. He knew that it would be late before the service began, for the
+miners would not gather until darkness had spread over the land. Thus
+hour after hour he remained there, and had Nance looked forth she might
+have seen his form appearing like a speck against the log building. But
+she was too much engaged with other things just then to think of the
+lone watcher on the opposite bank.
+
+The sun swung down behind the tall mountain peaks, and twilight settled
+over the land. Then Martin rose, closed the door of his house, and
+walked rapidly toward the Indian village. Here he obtained Taku's canoe,
+and paddled slowly out upon the lake. Several times he passed by the
+mining town, and noted the stir about the door of the saloon. Near the
+hospital, some distance away, scarcely a person was to be seen. Was the
+service to be a failure after all? he asked himself. At length he saw a
+number of men sauntering toward the river, followed after a while by
+others. Thus he knew that the movement for the service had begun. He
+continued his paddling around, keeping at the same time a close watch
+upon the land until he felt sure that all who were going had entered the
+hospital. He then headed the canoe up the river, stopping at length at
+the very place where Nance had landed that afternoon.
+
+Trees lining the bank draped the shore in deep shadows, and here Martin
+crouched, listening with straining ears for whatever sounds might come
+from the building above. He had not long to wait before he heard the
+sweet strains of Nance's violin sounding forth upon the still night air.
+It was the familiar tune of a well-known hymn, and soon he heard
+numerous voices lifted up with one accord.
+
+When the singing ceased a deep silence ensued. Then some one began to
+speak, and Martin knew that the missionary had begun the service.
+Occasionally a few familiar words reached him, and he was thus enabled
+to follow what was being said without much difficulty.
+
+As he remained crouching there amid the deepening darkness, he pictured
+to himself what was taking place within the hospital. He could see the
+miners seated around the room on rough benches, and the missionary
+standing before them reading the service. Nance, no doubt, was near,
+holding her violin in her hands, waiting for the next hymn. But where
+was Beryl? he wondered. Was she sitting near Nance? The memory of the
+many times he had seen her seated at the organ in the church in his
+first and only parish came upon him now with a sudden stabbing
+intensity. He recalled, especially, one bright, beautiful July day. The
+windows of the church were open. Bees hummed among the flowers outside,
+birds chirped and sang, while the perfume of fragrant fields was wafted
+into the building. There were sweet flowers, he remembered, upon the
+Communion Table, and on the organ. Beryl, all in white, was sitting in
+her accustomed place, and during the service he stole an occasional
+glance in her direction. He noted the happiness upon her face, and the
+expression of love in her eyes as she played. How full of peace and joy
+was his heart that day. He had been lifted up to the seventh heaven of
+ecstasy. And yet from that state of bliss he had fallen, and had plunged
+into the deep abyss of hell and despair. He thought of the angels who
+had been driven headlong out of heaven, and of the first parents thrust
+out from the Garden of Eden. To have known the joy and peace of walking
+with the Master made the sting of banishment all the more terribly
+poignant.
+
+The sound of the violin again striking up roused Martin from his
+reverie. The tune as before was familiar, and he hummed it to himself.
+But this time there was no chorus of discordant voices. One alone was
+singing, and the crouching man started, and then sprang to his feet as
+the sound reached his ears. It was a woman's voice, and he at once
+recognised it as Beryl's.
+
+    "There were ninety and nine that safely lay
+    In the shelter of the fold;
+    But one was out on the hills away,
+    Far off from the gates of gold,
+    Away on the mountains wild and bare,
+    Away from the tender Shepherd's care."
+
+Martin stood there beneath the trees, every nerve alert, and his ears
+strained so as not to miss one note of that voice which had been silent
+to him for years. Suddenly an over-mastering impulse seized him to
+behold once again the face of the singer. He accordingly moved up the
+hill like a man impelled forward by some unseen power. Reaching the
+corner of the building, he paused just for an instant, and then stepped
+to the door, which was wide open, and looked in. His eyes roamed for an
+instant around the room. He saw as in a dream the miners seated there,
+almost breathless, with their faces turned in one direction. Then his
+eyes rested upon Beryl! As he saw her he clutched the side of the door
+for support, while his face went deathly white. Yes, it was she, there
+was no mistake, the same form, the same face, though more worn than when
+last he beheld it, and the same sweet voice, but filled with a vibrant
+note of sadness.
+
+    "And all through the mountains thunder riven,
+    And up from the rocky steep,
+    There arose a cry to the gates of Heaven,
+    'Rejoice, I have found my sheep!'
+    And the angels, echoed around the throne,
+    'Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own.'"
+
+When the last note had rippled forth, a silence which could be felt
+pervaded the room. Then a sound, half sob and half wail of despair,
+caused the miners to look hurriedly around. Those nearest the door
+caught a fleeting glimpse of a face white and haggard, which disappeared
+instantly into the night.
+
+Later, when Nance walked slowly homeward, with Dick by her side, Martin
+was sitting before the door of his house awaiting her return.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE INNER IMPULSE
+
+
+The success of the service showed the necessity of a church building.
+There might come a time when the hospital could not be used, owing to
+the number of patients. Dick had often revolved this idea in his mind,
+and he believed that the time had now arrived for definite action. But
+it was not his intention to have a building which would be closed six
+days in the week and open only on Sunday for service. No, it was to be
+used every day, and during the evenings as well. It was to be a place
+where the evil influence of the saloon and the dance-hall could be
+counteracted. He sadly noted how soon the latter had been erected after
+the arrival of the women, and how well it was patronised. The church
+building must be cosy, and serve as a place where the miners could meet
+in genial intercourse, play games, smoke, and relate their experiences
+in the northland. It was to be a reading-room as well, for he knew that
+by the time the building was ready he would be able to have on hand a
+liberal supply of magazines from the mission station down river. They
+would be somewhat old, to be sure, but that would make little
+difference, as the miners were hungry for reading matter of any kind.
+
+When Dick unfolded his plan to Tom and Dad they became at once very
+enthusiastic, and promised to do all in their power to assist. They in
+turn mentioned the idea to a number of miners, but with little success.
+A few agreed to help, but most of them were indifferent. This did not
+discourage the missionary, however, and his little staff of workers.
+They very well knew that a church building would not appeal to the
+miners half as much as a hospital. But if it could be built it would
+prove as great if not a greater benefit in the end. It was Nurse
+Marion's interest and encouragement which did so much to advance the
+scheme. Often in the evening the faithful band would gather at the
+hospital to talk over the whole matter and discuss plans for the
+building. Nance could not always be present, so the nurse would talk it
+all over with her when they were alone during the afternoons. Nance was
+thus enabled to carry the news to Martin, who listened with great
+interest to the new project which was now on foot.
+
+And thus once again Dick plunged into the forest, axe in hand, to
+prepare the logs for the little church. Tom assisted him for a whole
+week, while Dad looked after the mines. Summer was passing all too
+rapidly, and the days were perceptibly shortening. It was a great
+sacrifice on Tom's part to leave the diggings just at this season. But
+he could not see the missionary stuck. "It may be," he quietly remarked
+to Dad, "that helpin' to build the church 'ill do me more good in the
+end than diggin' gold. What we dig out yon, Dad, 'ill perish, but in
+hewin' these sticks I'm feelin' that I'm layin' treasures up yon in the
+world to come."
+
+Besides giving of their time and labour Tom and Dad contributed as much
+as they were able of their gold. In this way several idle men were hired
+to work upon the building. Others gave sparingly, and thus the
+undertaking steadily though slowly advanced. But wages were high, and at
+last the day came when Dick found himself alone, and with no gold to
+employ any one to assist him. It was impossible for his two faithful
+friends to be with him now. A long hard winter lay ahead, and as they
+had recently got their mine in good working order, it was necessary for
+them to keep at it almost day and night, if they were to take out enough
+gold to last them until spring.
+
+The thought of winter had given Dick considerable worry ever since the
+arrival of the steamer. Many people had flocked into the region, and
+others would follow later, who had little money, and who had staked
+claims on creeks tributary to the Quaska, where there was very little
+gold. What they would do when the cold weather set in was a problem
+which he had discussed not only with Tom and Dad, but with Martin and
+Nance as well. Game was becoming scarce in the vicinity of Quaska, as
+the moose and caribou were retreating farther into the hills from the
+presence of the white men.
+
+Dick was also troubled about the church, as he feared that he would not
+have it finished before winter. He was doing all he possibly could, and
+he worked hard every day. It was always a comfort for him to slip over
+in the evening to see Nance. Her presence cheered him when most
+depressed. She looked upon the bright side, and he always went back to
+his task the next morning with renewed courage.
+
+Martin was often a silent listener as Dick talked about the church, and
+the fear which was tugging at his heart lest it would not be completed
+in time to be used that season.
+
+"There are men on the creeks," the missionary explained one evening,
+"who would be glad of a job if I only had some money to give them." He
+was sitting gazing absently into the fire as he spoke, with Nance and
+Martin seated near. "They have had bad luck, and are about stranded. The
+stores will not trust them, so I understand, and what will become of
+them is hard to tell. It is a pity that they didn't go out on the last
+steamer. They were urged to do so, but they were determined to stay to
+make good."
+
+"Won't the rest of the miners help them?" Nance asked. "The ones who
+have done well will surely not allow them to starve."
+
+"Oh, no. I believe that they will share with them, or at least some
+will. But many of the men who are hard up will not ask for help. They
+will live in their lonely shacks far up on the creeks. They will roam
+the forest for game, and subsist on half a meal a day. They will brood
+and worry all through the winter, and when the long nights come their
+position will be about unbearable. I have heard of such cases before.
+Some will starve to death, while others will go out of their minds. I
+fear that we shall have many sad cases on our hands before spring."
+
+"Are the stores well supplied with provisions?" Martin asked. "I have
+never been over to find out."
+
+"Yes, I believe there is plenty to last all through the winter if it
+could be equally distributed among the miners. But those who are able to
+buy will get most of it, while others will get very little."
+
+"Will the prices go up later, do you think?" Martin queried.
+
+"I am sure they will. The storekeepers will wait until navigation
+closes, and then they will jump the prices. They always do that, so I
+understand. I call it a mean business."
+
+Four days after this conversation Martin returned from a trip up the
+creeks. Nance, who was preparing supper as he entered the house, noted
+the buoyancy of his step, and the new expression which shone in his
+eyes. He appeared to her like a man who had been groping for something
+for a long time and at last had found it. A smile even spread over his
+face as Nance greeted him with cheerful words of welcome.
+
+"My, that supper smells good!" he exclaimed, as he laid his rifle aside.
+"I am almost starved."
+
+"Have you travelled far to-day, daddy?"
+
+"Yes. I have been over several of the creeks. I wanted to find out how
+much Dick knows about the condition of the miners out there."
+
+"And did you?"
+
+"Partly. I've not been over all the creeks yet, but so far I have
+learned that he is right. There will certainly be much suffering this
+winter."
+
+Martin said nothing more about his visit to the creeks, but that
+evening, much to Nance's surprise, he brought forth his violin, and
+asked her to accompany him. It was the first time that he had done such
+a thing since the arrival of the miners.
+
+"What shall we play, daddy?" Nance queried as she tuned up her violin.
+
+"Something sweet to-night, little one. Anything that strikes the fancy."
+
+He then began to play the air of "Ninety and Nine." "Sing it, Nance," he
+commanded. "Do you know the words?"
+
+"I have them here in this book which Nurse Marion let me have," was the
+reply. "But, oh, I wish you could have heard her sing it last Sunday at
+service. It was wonderful, and the men were so still when she got
+through, except one person near the door."
+
+"And what did he do?" Martin inquired.
+
+"He made a strange noise, something between a sob and a cry."
+
+"Did any one know who it was?"
+
+"No. We were talking about it afterwards, and Tom said that the words of
+the hymn must have struck some poor chap pretty hard to make him cry out
+like that."
+
+Martin made no reply, but played the tune over softly, while Nance, with
+the book open before her, sang the words in a clear, sweet voice.
+
+The former sat for a while when the hymn was ended, with the violin
+resting upon his knees.
+
+"I can't play any more to-night, Nance," he at length remarked. "Put
+this away, please," and he handed the instrument to her.
+
+That night after Nance had gone to bed Martin sat for a long time before
+the dying coals of the fire. He held in his hand a sheet of note paper,
+on which he had traced with a lead pencil the Quaska River and the
+various creeks running into it. On these latter he had made certain
+marks, which indicated where the cabins of the miners were situated.
+Several were close together, but most of them were far apart. On a
+number of the creeks he had made no marks at all. "I must visit them as
+soon as I can," he mused. "I learned to-day that one man is a long way
+off, living in a cabin all by himself, without even a dog for a
+companion."
+
+It was after midnight when Martin at length folded, up the paper, put it
+into his pocket, and rose to his feet. He listened attentively, until
+satisfied from her regular breathing that Nance was asleep. Then taking
+the candle in his hand, he went at once to the strong-room at the back
+of the house. Unbarring the door, he opened it, entered, and closed it
+carefully behind him. Crossing to the middle of the room, he lifted the
+trap-door and, holding the light in his left hand, peered down upon the
+treasure which he had not looked upon for years. It was all there just
+as he had left it, with not a gleaming grain molested. Near by was a tin
+can which he had used in bringing the gold from up river. Seizing this,
+he placed it near the hole and, scooping up the gold with his hand, he
+soon had the can filled to the brim. This accomplished, he replaced the
+trap-door and, passing out of the room, shut to and barred the door as
+it was before.
+
+Picking up a piece of paper lying on a shelf, he scrawled a few words
+with his lead pencil. Folding up the paper, he pressed it down on the
+inside of the can so that only a small portion was left in sight.
+Picking up the can, and blowing out the candle, he passed out of the
+house, shut the door, and hurried down to the shore, where his canoe was
+lying. It did not take him long to cross to the opposite bank, where he
+landed, as he did the previous Sunday night, just below the hospital.
+
+Carrying the tin of gold in his hands, he moved cautiously up among the
+trees. The night was quite dark, but he was able to see the building
+rising up black before him. He did not stop now at the front of the
+hospital, but moved around to the side, where he knew there was a
+separate door leading into Beryl's room. His steps were more wary than
+ever now, for he was afraid lest the least noise should betray him.
+
+Reaching at length the door, he placed the can upon the sill so that it
+could without any doubt be seen when Beryl opened the door in the
+morning. His errand completed, Martin breathed a sigh of relief as he
+stepped back among the trees. He did not leave at once, but stood there
+for some time, with eyes fixed upon the room in which he knew Beryl was
+sleeping. He looked toward the door. It was there where she passed in
+and out, and her feet had often touched that sill. He started suddenly
+forward several paces, and, stooping, he impulsively pressed his lips to
+the hard board sill. Then he sprang hurriedly back, surprised at his own
+action, and, delaying no longer, plunged among the trees, and hastened
+to the river.
+
+After breakfast the next morning Martin again went into the strong-room
+and, opening the trap-door, picked up a number of fine nuggets, and
+placed them in his pocket. He then went back to the living-room and
+informed Nance that he was going over the river and might not be back
+for several hours. Nance was somewhat surprised at this, for Martin had
+always persistently refused to go with her to the town. She watched him
+as he paddled his canoe down the river, and then along the edge of the
+shore until he came to the steamboat landing, where he ran ashore.
+Beyond this she could not follow his movements. Her curiosity was now
+much aroused, which was by no means lessened when she saw him returning
+about two hours later with the canoe loaded with supplies from the
+store. She ran down to the shore to meet him, and was greatly excited
+when she saw the quantity of provisions he had on board.
+
+"Why, daddy!" she exclaimed, "have you cleared the store all out?"
+
+"Not at all," was the laughing reply. "I had no idea that the stores
+were so well stocked with provisions. They will hardly miss what I have
+brought away. They thought that I was a miner."
+
+"But what are you going to do with it all, daddy? We couldn't use so
+much flour, rice, bacon, beans, tea, and sugar in two years."
+
+"Couldn't we, dearie? Are you sure of that?" and Martin's eyes twinkled
+as he looked into Nance's puzzled face. "We'll store it away in the
+strong-room, and this winter you will see how we can use it. There will
+be five times as much before I am through, or else I am greatly
+mistaken. You need not mention to any one at the hospital what I am
+doing. It is just as well for people not to know too much, see?"
+
+Nance helped her father to carry up the supplies and store them
+carefully away. She longed to know what he intended to do with such a
+quantity of provisions, but somehow she did not dare to question him any
+further.
+
+Martin sat for a long time before the fire that night after Nance had
+gone to bed. He held a book in his hand, though he read but little. His
+thoughts were elsewhere, and an occasional sigh escaped his lips. At
+length he arose and crossed the room to his cot, and drew forth from
+beneath it a small box. This he opened and took out a little package,
+carefully wrapped in an old piece of faded brown paper. Carrying this
+back to the fire, he sat down. His hand trembled slightly as he undid
+the covering and looked upon the newspaper clipping which was exposed to
+view. Long years had passed since he had last read the story of his
+shame and disgrace. He had never desired to do so since Nance had come
+into his life. But now he wished to read that account once again. With
+the new impulse that had come to him he believed that he could do so
+without any of the old feeling rising in his heart to torture him as
+formerly.
+
+Carefully he read every word, and then laid the clipping upon the book
+lying on the table by his side, and gave himself up to thought. His
+whole past life rose before him with wonderful clearness. Nothing was
+omitted. He wished to view everything before shutting it out from his
+mind, as he believed, forever. A new man was rising within him, which
+was to cast off the old.
+
+It was late when he rose from the chair, closed the book, placed it upon
+the shelf, and then threw himself upon his cot.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE KEEPSAKE
+
+
+Every day Nurse Marion was kept busy at the hospital. She had three
+injured men to look after now instead of one, and from early morn until
+late at night she cared for her patients. She found Nance of great
+assistance, and looked forward to her arrival every afternoon. In fact,
+she was more drawn to this maiden of the wilderness than to any other
+woman she had met for years. She was charmed with her simplicity and
+naturalness of manner. There was nothing artificial about her. She had
+none of the languid veneer of many of the young women in towns and
+cities. She was so anxious to learn, and quick in acquiring knowledge,
+that the nurse was delighted. During the few weeks that they were
+together it was remarkable the progress Nance made in the ways of
+house-keeping, sewing, and cooking, as well as looking after the
+patients.
+
+Beryl needed a companion upon whom she could depend. For years her life
+had been a lonely one, notwithstanding her constant activity. People
+loved her, and the miners down river almost worshipped her. For them
+there had always been a ready smile and a sympathetic word of cheer or
+comfort. But none knew of the great sorrow which had come into her life
+years before, nor the heaviness of her heart at times as she went about
+her daily duties. Try as she might she could not banish from her mind
+the one who had been the cause of her sorrow. Hers was not a nature
+which could lightly put away precious memories and reach out and enjoy
+things which were new. Her love had been too deep and sacred to be cast
+off at the least pretext or provocation. She had often heard young
+people talking about love as something that could be worn to-day like a
+beautiful robe and cast aside to-morrow and forgotten. Of such a love
+she knew nothing. Love to her was an inseparable attribute, constantly
+with her, and forming a part of her very being as the fragrance is to
+the rose.
+
+Of her past life, and the longing which still dwelt in her heart for the
+one whom she had never expected to see again, she could not speak to
+others. The mere idea of bringing forth all of those memories for people
+to gaze upon and discuss was most horrible to her sensitive nature.
+There was nothing in common, not the slightest link, between the ones
+she daily met and her own past life. They could lavish their affection
+upon her, praise her, and admire her, but still she felt alone. She
+could touch the world of activity and seem to take her place naturally
+among men and women, but they could not enter into her life. There she
+had remained alone until Nance crossed her path. Then a marvellous
+change had taken place. Nance was not only different from others she had
+met, but she was the one link between the past and the present.
+
+To no one had Beryl breathed Martin's name after his disgrace. But with
+Nance it was otherwise. She could talk to her freely about him with no
+reserve whatsoever. During their quiet afternoon hours each day she
+skilfully drew from Nance the story of her young life as far back as she
+could remember. Often Beryl's eyes would fill with tears as she listened
+to the brave, earnest struggle Martin had made to care for the waif of
+the wild, and to develop her mind. Nance told her story well, and the
+listener hung on every word with the most intense interest. Often the
+nurse would watch Nance as she moved about the room. She was really
+Martin's child. He had stamped upon her his own personality. She even
+spoke as he did, and Beryl noted that she pronounced certain words with
+the same accent that she knew was peculiar to Martin. The more she was
+with Nance, and learned from her lips of what her foster-father had done
+for her, the more deeply wrung was Beryl's heart. She recalled the
+fierce denunciations which had been heaped upon him after his fall,
+while she alone had been silent. A great longing now came into her heart
+to publish to the world the story of what he had done for an orphan
+child in the northern wilderness. If those who had denounced him the
+most bitterly only knew, she often said to herself, would they not think
+of him in a different light, and judge him less harshly?
+
+"You must be very happy here, nurse," Nance naively remarked one
+afternoon, as the two were sitting by the window.
+
+"Why, what makes you think so?" was the surprised reply.
+
+"Because you are so beautiful, and do so much good to others."
+
+Nurse Marion's cheeks flushed, and her head bent lower over her work.
+
+"Do you know," and she lifted her eyes to her companion's face, "that I
+have often thought the same thing about you?"
+
+"About me! Oh, nurse, what could make you think such a thing?"
+
+"You are pretty, happy, and you have done much."
+
+"I never knew that I was pretty until Dick told me, and I am glad that I
+am--for his sake. But what have I done in life? I have had no chance
+like you."
+
+"If I am not mistaken, Nance, you have done very much for a lonely man.
+Did you ever think how strange it is that your father--I can't help
+calling him that--should have left the ways of civilisation to bury
+himself here in the wilderness?"
+
+"I have thought about it at times, and I once spoke of it to daddy."
+
+"And what did he say?"
+
+"He did not answer me, but such a sorrowful expression came into his
+eyes that I never had the heart to ask him again."
+
+"I have thought very much about it, Nance," the nurse continued. "There
+surely must have been some great trouble in his past life which sent him
+away from his friends and relatives. Did you ever think about that?"
+
+"Why, no!"
+
+"It must have been something terrible, whatever it was, and his heart
+must have been full of the deepest despair. Now, suppose you had not
+come into his life, what do you think would have happened?"
+
+"I do not know. Do you?"
+
+"Not altogether, but I can partly imagine. He might have united himself
+to the Indians, and lived like one of them, or, what is more likely, he
+would have brooded over his trouble, until, on the verge of despair, he
+might have ended his life."
+
+"Oh! do you think so?" and Nance clasped her hands before her, while her
+eyes looked big with wonder. "Would daddy have done that?"
+
+"He might have done so if he had not found you. You have been his
+guardian angel during his long life in this country. Upon you he has
+lavished his affections. For you he lived and toiled. You brought out
+the best that was in him. You do not know, you cannot fully understand
+now what great things you have done for him. He might have been dead, or
+worse than dead, but for you."
+
+Stirred by her deep emotions, Nurse Marion had risen to her feet, and
+was standing over Nance. Her face was flushed, and her eyes glowed with
+the light of excitement. She checked herself almost instantly, however,
+upon observing her companion's wondering look. With a slight forced
+laugh she straightened herself up, and resumed her former calm manner.
+
+All through the evening Nance thought over what the nurse had said about
+her father. She quietly studied him as he sat smoking before the fire.
+She had always known that she owed much to him, but that she had done
+anything in return was an altogether new idea. If there had been great
+trouble in his past life, why had he not mentioned it to her? she
+wondered. Perhaps the nurse was mistaken in what she had surmised. The
+thought that she knew for a certainty whereof she spoke never once
+entered Nance's mind. But there came to her the remembrance of her
+father's peculiar action at times, especially since the arrival of the
+miners. This had often puzzled her. She had spoken of it to Dick, why
+not mention it to Nurse Marion as well? It would relieve her mind, at
+any rate, to talk it over with a woman. She would do so the next day, so
+she decided.
+
+When Nance crossed over to the hospital the following afternoon she
+found Dick there. He and the nurse were both greatly excited, caused by
+the can of gold, which was before them on the table.
+
+"It was on the sill just outside when I opened the door this morning,"
+Nurse Marion explained as Nance approached. "I could not understand what
+was the meaning of it until I discovered this note," and she pointed to
+the slip of paper.
+
+"For the new church, from one who wishes to remain unknown."
+
+That was all, and as Nance scanned the words she felt sure that she
+recognised her father's handwriting. Then she glanced toward the can,
+and it, too, looked familiar. Though she had not seen it for years she
+remembered now the first time she had looked upon it, when the Indians
+had brought it over the mountains from the trading post, filled with
+tea. The picture of a beautiful flower on the outside had interested her
+greatly, and she had often looked upon it as a child as it sat upon the
+shelf against the wall. Then it had disappeared, and she had forgotten
+about it until now.
+
+"I haven't the least idea who has given all this gold for the church
+building."
+
+Nance heard Dick utter these words, but his voice appeared far away, and
+she herself seemed to be dreaming. Her father had given the gold she was
+quite certain. He must have taken it from the strong-room, and brought
+it over at night. But why did he wish his name to be unknown? Why had he
+given all of this for the church when he himself would not attend
+service?
+
+She took a seat by the side of the little table and watched Dick as he
+emptied out the gold. What beautiful nuggets there were, both large and
+small.
+
+"My! they look good," the missionary exclaimed. "How fascinating they
+are. There will be enough to finish the church, I do believe."
+
+"Some one has a big heart," Nurse Marion replied, looking down
+thoughtfully upon the gleaming pile before her. "How strange that he
+should have left it at my door."
+
+Nance listened to the conversation, but said nothing. She was unusually
+quiet. She longed to tell all she knew about the gold. But this she must
+not do. Her father did not wish any one to know what he had done, so she
+must be true to him, and tell the secret to no one, not even to Dick.
+The latter noted her silence, and wondered what was the matter.
+
+"What are you going to do with the can?" she at length asked.
+
+"Keep the gold in it, of course. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, I hardly know, except--that--if you were not going to use it, I
+should like to have it."
+
+"For a keepsake?"
+
+"Yes. But if you need it, never mind."
+
+"Why, you are welcome to it. I can put the gold in something else."
+
+Nance said no more then, but that evening as she was leaving the
+hospital she picked up the can, and wrapped it up carefully in the apron
+she had been wearing that afternoon. Dick was waiting to accompany her
+home, and an amused smile played about the corners of his mouth as he
+observed what she was doing.
+
+Nurse Marion watched them as they left the building, and walked slowly
+down to the river. They were so happy in each other's company that her
+own sense of loneliness sank deeper than ever into her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+ATONEMENT
+
+
+Summer passed all too soon for the miners in the valley of the Quaska.
+The days were shortening and the nights lengthening in an alarming
+manner. Great wedge-like battalions of wild geese honked their way
+southward each day until all had fled. A greyness settled over the land,
+and at night the Northern Lights flared brighter in the heavens. It was
+quite evident to all that winter was not far off. To the ones not
+prepared for its coming the outlook was not pleasant. They had but
+started panning out gold, and there was little prospect that they could
+do much more before spring.
+
+At the approach of winter Martin once again resumed his rounds of the
+creeks. Many of the miners who had cleaned up a considerable amount of
+gold during the summer had moved down to the mouth of the river, and
+settled in little shacks at Quaska. These men could buy their supplies
+at the stores, even though the prices were exorbitant. But the ones who
+had met with no success could not afford such luxuries. They preferred
+to remain on the creeks, to hide their poverty from prying eyes, and, if
+possible, eke out a precarious living from any wild game they might be
+able to procure with their rifles.
+
+Carrying with him sufficient food to last him for several days, Martin
+halted at each cabin. He was always given a hearty welcome, and won all
+hearts by his brightness and his optimistic spirit. To the miners he was
+one of themselves, and they believed that he was in the same straitened
+circumstances as they were. Upon leaving he was always invited to come
+again, and as often as possible.
+
+Martin returned home at the end of each week. During his absence Nance
+stayed with Nurse Marion, for her assistance was needed now at the
+hospital more than ever, owing to the number of patients who had been
+admitted. Martin was always eager to hear all the news from across the
+river, and he would sit and listen while Nance recounted everything. She
+told him about the church; that it was all finished, and how it was
+opened each night for the men to gather to play games, and to read the
+few books which the missionary had brought with him.
+
+"We might let some of our books go, eh?" and Martin nodded toward the
+volumes upon the shelves.
+
+"Oh, that would be so nice, daddy," Nance replied. "The men will be
+delighted. May I take several over to-morrow?"
+
+"No, not now. It will be better to wait until winter settles in. If they
+read them all now they will have nothing when the evenings are long and
+cold. Wait until then."
+
+Nance was greatly pleased at the change which had come over Martin. He
+talked more, and the worried, haunted expression had left his eyes. She
+often spoke about him to Nurse Marion, and the latter was never tired of
+listening to her, and she would occasionally question Nance about her
+father.
+
+The next time that Martin left his house for the creeks he carried with
+him his violin. At every cabin he was doubly welcomed now, and often he
+would play for hours to a handful of men who had drifted into the shack
+which he happened to be visiting. He sang, too, and at times the miners
+would join in when the tune and the words were familiar. He was
+surprised at first to find how frequently the men asked for some
+well-known hymn, and as they all sang it he noted the expression upon
+their faces. He knew that they were face to face with a hard
+proposition, and needed something to keep up their spirits.
+
+Thus from cabin to cabin he moved, bringing cheer and comfort wherever
+he went. The men were loth for him to leave and always pressed him to
+stay longer. As the days shortened, and the long evenings became almost
+unbearable, the lonely men counted the days and the hours which would
+bring Martin and his violin once again to their doors. They could not
+understand him now, and often discussed among themselves why he should
+make such regular rounds of the creeks. Although they knew where he
+lived, and how long he had been in the country, he would never talk
+about himself. This added to the mystery concerning him. What can he be
+doing it for? they asked over and over again. Some believed that it was
+for the enjoyment he got out of it, and the companionship of the miners.
+But when he spent a whole week with Andy Henderson, caring for him when
+he was sick, the miners did not know what to think.
+
+"If he was a parson," one remarked, "the whole thing would be clear."
+
+"Sure thing," another replied. "But he never says a word about
+religion."
+
+"Doesn't he, eh? That's where you are mistaken. His is a religion of
+deeds and not words. If he had come here and handed out a whole lot of
+talk about being patient under discouragements how much good would it
+have done us? Mighty little, I can tell you that. But he drops in on us
+with a word of cheer, and brings along his fiddle. That's the religion
+which gets me every time."
+
+Winter shut down unusually early, and gripped the northland in its icy
+embrace. Every time Martin made his rounds of the creeks he noticed the
+grim spectre of famine and despair creeping upon the miners in their
+desolate cabins. They scoured the land for miles around in search of
+game, with but meagre success, for the moose and caribou had withdrawn
+farther afield upon the arrival of the white men. To follow them far the
+miners had not the strength. They had been living upon short allowance
+for some time, and every day their small supplies were becoming much
+diminished. Several, feeling the pinch of want, went to the stores in
+town, and asked to be supplied with food on credit until spring. Their
+request was refused, and with hearts rankling with bitterness they
+marched back up the creek to bear the news to their companions. The
+proud spirit of this little band of men was aroused, and they swore that
+they would die rather than ask again for any food from Quaska. They,
+accordingly, shared their scanty remaining supply with one another with
+the feeling that when this was gone there was nothing before them but
+death.
+
+Winter was now upon them in all its fierceness. The weather was
+extremely cold, and snow lay thick over the land. At this critical time
+Martin one day appeared at the cabin nearest to Quaska. He was not alone
+this time, for he had a sled loaded with provisions, and drawn by two
+husky dogs he had borrowed from Taku, the Indian.
+
+"Had more grub on hand than I needed," was his brief explanation to the
+miners as they stared longingly upon the loaded sled.
+
+Then throughout the creeks he moved, dispensing supplies wherever he
+went, and when all was gone he hurried back for more. His feverish
+eagerness to be doing something for others was what puzzled the miners.
+He was now more of a mystery than ever. Whereas at first they considered
+him as one of themselves they came at last to look upon him as some
+unearthly being, an angel in the form of a man, who had dropped from
+heaven to aid them in their distress. Who else could it be? they
+reasoned, who would go to so much trouble for a few lonely men, hard up
+in a desolate region? It was no ordinary spirit, they well knew, which
+would drive a man out into such cruel weather for the sake of others.
+
+In a few weeks the news of what Martin was doing reached Quaska, and
+passed from man to man, causing much curious comment on every hand. In
+some way the refusal of the storekeepers to provide starving men with
+provisions leaked out, and caused considerable stir among the leading
+men of the place, especially Tom. They went at once to the stores, and
+ordered supplies for their comrades up the creeks, while several
+volunteered to carry forward the provisions.
+
+"Who will pay for these things?" the storekeepers whined.
+
+"Pay!" Tom fairly shouted the words. "D'ye think we'd come here an'
+order this stuff without holdin' ourselves responsible? Ye deserve to be
+cleaned out an' driven from town fer yer meanness. Ye've not only raised
+the price of yer goods beyond all reason, but ye refused to supply a few
+poor chaps who were starvin' to death, an' they never mentioned it to a
+livin' soul. That's what ye've done."
+
+So high did the feeling run in Quaska over the meanness of the
+storekeepers that a miners' meeting was held that very night, when Tom
+was appointed chairman. Fiery speeches of indignation were made, and it
+was decided that the storekeepers had to come down in their prices. They
+would be allowed to have fair profits on all they sold, but extortion
+had to be stopped at once. If they would not agree to this, so it was
+decided, their goods would be seized, paid for at cost price, and they
+themselves driven out of the town. In fear and trembling the
+storekeepers agreed to the demands of the irate miners, and so the storm
+blew over.
+
+The news of Martin's noble work out on the creeks was not long in
+reaching the hospital. It was Tom who told the story in his own graphic
+manner. Nance was delighted when she heard what her father was doing,
+and told how he had stored up the provisions before the winter had set
+in.
+
+"I didn't know what he was going to do with it," she said in conclusion,
+"for he would not tell me."
+
+As Nurse Marion listened to the story her mind was busy seeking for the
+cause of Martin's benevolent work. At last it came to her, and she knew
+that there was only one reason which could prompt him to do such things.
+He was trying to atone for the past, and at once there came to her mind
+the fierce struggle which had been going on in his heart for long years.
+What a battle he must have fought, and how great the victory. The old
+self had been crushed down, and in its stead a new life of service,
+contrite and humble, had risen, which had driven him forth to live for
+others. She understood now for a certainty that though Martin had fallen
+and could never be forgiven by the critical world which had condemned
+him, yet in reality he was superior to his critics. He had sadly missed
+the mark, and had fallen. But he had fought a brave fight, had risen
+from the pit, and with a courage which nothing could daunt was now
+plunging into a noble work for others. As she thought of all this a
+sweet peace stole into her heart. Martin was worthy of her affection,
+after all, and her love had not been misplaced during the years she had
+been loyal to him while others had condemned.
+
+Knowing nothing of the stir he was causing at Quaska, Martin continued
+his work of relief up and down the creeks. For weeks he moved from cabin
+to cabin, carrying food where it was most needed. But his own supply was
+getting low, and only one sled load now remained. He knew that to obtain
+more he would have to go direct to the stores, which he was now very
+loth to do.
+
+He was travelling late one cold afternoon far up a lonely creek, many
+miles from Quaska. He had only a small part of his load of provisions
+and he wished to carry this to a man living all alone, who was in great
+need. Of all the miners he had met Tim Ralston seemed the most obdurate
+and ungrateful. He was a man of few words, sullen and morose. His hard
+luck during the past summer had embittered him more than ever, and
+living alone he had brooded so much over his troubles that his mind
+became somewhat affected. He would rave long and vehemently about his
+hard luck, the country, and the hopelessness of the future. Martin had
+visited him once before, and had received such a cold reception that he
+had been by no means anxious to return. But as the severity of the
+winter increased he found it difficult to get Tim out of his mind. He
+knew that he must be hard up for food, and he could not allow the man to
+starve to death without making an effort to relieve his wants.
+
+It was late in the afternoon as Martin at last halted before Tim's
+cabin. It was bitterly cold, and a volume of smoke was curling up into
+the frosty air from the miserable stove-pipe sticking out through the
+roof. He knocked, but received no reply. Thinking this strange, he
+pushed open the door, and cautiously entered. All was dark within, but
+very warm. Feeling in his pocket, he found a piece of a candle, which he
+at once lighted. By means of this he saw the form of a man huddled on
+the floor, with some blankets wrapped around him. It was Tim with beard
+almost to his waist, and long, matted hair streaming over his shoulders.
+He hardly resembled a human being as he crouched there, working his
+jaws, and swaying his body to and fro.
+
+"Tim, Tim, what's the matter?" Martin cried as he strode forward and
+stood by the side of the poor creature.
+
+The latter lifted his shaggy head at the sound of these words, and
+turned his blood-shot eyes upon Martin's face.
+
+"Leg broke," he feebly wailed. "Starving! Dying!"
+
+Martin lost no more time in asking questions. He hurried outside, freed
+the dogs, and drew the sled with its load into the wretched cabin. He
+set to work at once to prepare some food for the afflicted man, and then
+fed him like a baby. All through the night he tended him, doing
+everything in his power to relieve his sufferings, which were very
+great. He knew, however, that he needed more aid than he could give. To
+remain there meant death for Tim. The only hope was to get him into the
+hospital at Quaska, where he could receive proper care, and attention.
+
+Martin had no intention of going straight to the hospital with the
+suffering man, for there he would meet Beryl. He would take him to his
+own house, and let the missionary do the rest.
+
+At the first faint streak of dawn Martin began to make preparations for
+the run to Quaska. The injured man groaned and cursed as he was wrapped
+up as comfortably as possible in his blankets, and placed upon the sled.
+This latter was made in the form of a toboggan, and it would accordingly
+travel where an ordinary sled with runners could not be taken. Martin
+was most thankful that such was the case, for he could make a short cut
+to Quaska over a mountain-pass, and down a long valley instead of going
+by the much longer circuitous route he had taken on his outward trip. He
+believed that he could save a whole day by crossing the mountain, which
+would mean very much to the sufferer.
+
+The air was clear and cold when at last the two huskies, with short,
+sharp yelps, pulled away from the cabin on their stern run to save the
+life of Tim Ralston. Martin strode on ahead, breaking down a trail with
+his long, narrow snow-shoes. All day they pressed forward, and when
+night shut down Martin was satisfied with the progress they had made
+during the day. Selecting a sheltered spot among a thick clump of fir
+trees, he dug away the snow, built a fire, and prepared camp.
+
+Little sleep came to his eyes this night. Tim was more restless than
+ever, and he had to be watched constantly lest he should toss aside his
+blankets, and thus perish. Notwithstanding the fire which Martin kept
+going, he found it very cold, for, while his face was burning, his back
+was freezing. Only twice did he doze off, overcome by fatigue and want
+of sleep. But he always aroused with a start, fearful lest he had slept
+too long.
+
+All through the next day he plodded on ahead of the dogs, at times
+helping them by means of a rope around his shoulders, for the snow over
+the mountain was deep, and the sled dragged hard with its heavy burden.
+That night they camped upon the brow of the range facing Quaska. Far
+down below stretched a long valley, with towering hills on both sides.
+Again Martin was well pleased with the progress they had made, and he
+expected that with one day more of such travelling they would not be far
+from Quaska, if not there.
+
+In the morning when they once more drew away from camp the sky was
+cloudless, and as they descended the mountain side the air became
+warmer. The short winter sun lifted its shining face into view, and rode
+along for a while close to the horizon. But toward noon a perceptible
+change became apparent in the atmospheric conditions. The sky grew
+cloudy, and the sun disappeared behind a thick haze. Ere long a stiff
+breeze was swinging down the valley, telling Martin only too plainly
+that a storm was rapidly brewing.
+
+The region through which they were now travelling was desolate in the
+extreme. Fires had swept over the land years before, and nothing
+remained but gaunt fir trees and jack-pines, dead and devoid of every
+vestige of life. Through their naked branches swept the ever-increasing
+wind, piercing the bodies of both men and dogs. No shelter was anywhere
+to be seen, and Martin's only hope was to push on as rapidly as possible
+and reach the unburnt forest miles down the valley. He knew only too
+well what it would mean to be caught in a storm on that bleak mountain
+slope where everything would be blotted out from view, and where the
+tempest might rage all day and far on into the night.
+
+Calling encouragingly to the dogs, and with the lead rope about his
+shoulders, Martin started forward as speedily as the deep snow would
+permit. The huskies strained at their traces, yelped, lowered their
+heads, and surged onward close at their master's heels. An hour thus
+passed, and the wind, increasing in strength every moment, was roaring
+down the valley, while particles of driving snow began to fleck the
+bodies of the hurrying wayfarers. In another half-hour the air was
+filled with blinding snow, which drove down lashingly upon them,
+completely blotting out everything from view except the swaying,
+spectre-like forms of the nearest trees.
+
+As the wind was full astern, Martin believed that by running straight
+before it he could keep his course, and at length gain the shelter
+beyond. He nerved himself to the task, and strained hard upon the rope.
+But ere long the dogs began to lag, whine, and surge back in their
+harness. Coaxing and whipping did no good, for with the tempest upon
+them they refused to advance, and cowered upon the snow. Hastily
+unhitching the discouraged animals, Martin made his rope fast to the
+sled, and thus alone endeavoured to drag it forward. It was a hard pull,
+and slow progress did he make. The helpless man cursed and groaned as he
+felt the fierceness of the storm beating upon him, and the snow drifting
+in through every opening of his blankets. Martin could not waste time
+and breath in trying to soothe him. There was too much at stake, for
+unless he reached the forest beyond they must both surely perish.
+
+For another hour Martin tugged at the rope, with bent head, and feet
+shuffling the snow-shoes through the newly-fallen snow. At last Tim
+cried aloud, saying that he was freezing. Then Martin paused, stripped
+off his own jacket, and wrapped it around the sufferer's body. He then
+carefully replaced the blankets which he had removed, and once again
+took up his weary task.
+
+The wind now pierced him cruelly, and chilled him to the bone. His hands
+became numb, although he pounded them together in an effort to keep the
+blood in circulation. At times his brain reeled, and he felt that he
+could go no farther. But each time he thought of Nance. How could she
+get along without him? he asked himself. Beryl, too, came to his mind.
+She seemed to come to him through the storm, and he saw her, not at the
+hospital, but as he used to see her in the happy days of old. The sight
+of her had always inspired him then, as it did now in his fight with
+death. He must not give up, he said to himself. Anyway, if he was to
+die, it should be with his face to the front, and shoulders to his task.
+Then if Beryl should ever learn of the struggle he had made, it might do
+something to atone for the past. She might not think of him so bitterly,
+as no doubt she had done ever since his fall.
+
+And still the storm continued to wrap around him its cold winding-sheet,
+entangling his feet, and endeavouring to win him for a victim. Martin
+was a stern antagonist, however, and fought off his relentless foe with
+the courage of desperation. He would fight; he would win; he would not
+give up. But slower and slower now he moved; fiercer and fiercer roared
+the tempest about him. Peculiar noises sounded in his ears, and weird
+voices of demons mocked at his futile efforts to stand upright, and to
+press forward. He saw them leering before him, reaching out their
+horrible hands to clutch him. Then his brain reeled, a fearful blackness
+shrouded his eyes, and with a despairing cry he fell forward full length
+upon the snow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+REVELATION
+
+
+The new mission room proved a great boon to the miners at Quaska. When
+it was first opened very few visited the place, and the missionary felt
+somewhat discouraged. But Tom told him not to worry, as they would be
+sure to come later.
+
+"Jist wait, pard," he said, "until the nights git long an' cold, then
+ye'll see 'em come, an' mighty glad they'll be to have a spot to drop
+into instid of sittin' in their lonely shacks."
+
+"But perhaps they'll go to the saloons instead," Dick replied. "Won't
+they feel more at home there?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Some will go, to be sure. But all can't go, an' all
+won't want to go. Jist ye wait, an' see."
+
+In due time Tom's words came true, and every night saw the mission room
+filled with men. Some came at first rather doubtfully, thinking,
+perhaps, that they were to get a sermon before they left. But when they
+found the room warm, bright, and filled with such genial company they
+were delighted. All they were asked to do was to obey certain rules
+which Dick had posted up in several places. Tom was the presiding
+genius, even though the missionary was present, and always made every
+man thoroughly at home by his hearty greeting.
+
+"Ye're as welcome as the night is long," he would exclaim to each
+newcomer. "This is Liberty Hall, with only a few exceptions," and he
+would nod toward the rules. "Ye're not to use any cuss words, ye mustn't
+fight nor gamble, nor come here with a reekin' whiskey breath."
+
+Only once did a bumptious young miner attempt to ignore such
+instructions. His stay was brief, for as many men as could lay hands
+upon him hustled him out of the building, with the warning not to return
+until he could behave in a proper manner.
+
+Dick was not only pleased at the success of the mission room, but he was
+very thankful to see how the men attended service every Sunday evening.
+But there was one thing lacking. More reading matter was needed, and
+though he had placed his few books at the disposal of the men, they
+still craved for more. The papers and magazines he had expected from the
+Mission down river, for some reason, did not arrive. He spoke about it
+to Nance the morning after the storm.
+
+"The room would be complete if we only had something more for the men to
+read. They are about wild for books and magazines. They have already
+devoured everything in my small library, and some of the men are reading
+the books all over again."
+
+Nance glanced at Dick's worried face, and her eyes dropped as they met
+his. An idea came into her mind, and she was on the point of speaking
+when she checked herself. No, she would surprise Dick, and that would
+make it all the more interesting.
+
+They were standing close to each other, and as Dick looked upon Nance he
+thought that she never seemed so beautiful. There was such a simplicity
+about her manner, combined with a deep interest in any of his
+undertakings. Her hands were clasped before her as she stood there
+looking around the room. How he longed to take those hands in his, and
+tell her of all that was in his heart. It was not the first time that he
+had desired to do so, but he had always desisted. He believed that she
+cared for him, but he wanted her to do more than that. He wished to be
+sure that she loved him. He was so happy in her presence that he feared
+if he told her all that his heart prompted him to tell it might break
+the spell, and cause her to avoid him.
+
+Dick Russell was not much acquainted with the ways of women. Hitherto
+little time or opportunity had been his to devote to the tender
+affections. And in truth he had but slight inclination to do so until he
+met Nance. He could not, therefore, read the look of love in her eyes,
+nor comprehend the flush which suffused her face whenever he approached.
+Could he have done so he would not have hesitated about telling her of
+his over-mastering love.
+
+All that afternoon Nance remained with Nurse Marion at the hospital. She
+thought much about her father, and wondered if he was safely sheltered
+in some miner's cabin. He was in her mind more than usual, and during
+the night as she listened to the storm she felt uneasy as to his
+welfare. Even after she had fallen asleep she awoke with a start,
+thinking that he was holding out his hands to her, and calling to her
+for aid.
+
+Such an impression did the vision make upon her that she could not free
+herself from the idea that something had happened to her father. During
+the morning she was more quiet than the nurse had ever seen her.
+
+The storm had cleared in the night, and after dinner Nance put on her
+snow-shoes, and left the hospital. It was Saturday, the day her father
+always came home, and it was her custom to have a cheerful fire awaiting
+him, and supper ready. She found the house more cold and desolate than
+it had ever appeared to her before. But when she had a bright fire
+blazing up, the room looked more comfortable and homelike.
+
+Nance sat near the fire warming herself, for she was cold. She thought
+of the many times she had sat there with Martin by her side. Then for
+the first time the sense of loneliness came upon her. She felt
+home-sick, and longed for Martin. She wanted to have him near her, and
+listen to his voice. She wished to be a child once again, and to sit
+upon his knee while he told her stories. She had fondly imagined that
+she would be supremely happy to be away from the log house, and out into
+the great world beyond. But now she realised that no matter where she
+might go, no place could ever be so dear to her as this rude home where
+she had spent so many happy years.
+
+She looked about the room upon all that Martin had done, and the various
+things that he had made for her comfort. She had always appreciated his
+efforts on her behalf, but now a different feeling stole into her heart,
+and tears came into her eyes. How she longed to see him again, that she
+might tell him what he was to her, and to thank him for so much
+kindness.
+
+At length, brushing away her tears, she rose to her feet, and crossed
+the room to the book-shelves. Standing there, she looked for a while
+upon the volumes which Martin had read with such enjoyment through the
+long winter evenings. He had said that she might take them over to the
+reading-room when the miners needed them most. Surely now was the time,
+and when her father came home she would speak to him about them. How
+surprised and delighted Dick would be when she carried an armful over
+the next day.
+
+Reaching up her hand, she brought down a volume which was lying on top
+of several others. As she looked at the title, she believed that the
+miners would like it. It had been years since she had read it, but she
+remembered how delighted she had been with it at the time. The hero in
+the book had appealed to her very strongly. She had not met Dick Russell
+then, and she mused for a while about the difference between her present
+idea of a hero to that of years ago. Then Martin was the only white man
+she knew, and she had never looked upon him as a hero. Her heroes were
+like those mentioned in books, men of war and action, who had
+accomplished great things.
+
+Going back to the fire, Nance ensconced herself in Martin's big chair,
+and opened the book. As she did so a newspaper clipping lying between
+the leaves attracted her attention. Wondering what it could be, she laid
+the book upon her lap, unfolded the paper, and began to read. She had
+not proceeded far when her face went white as death, and her hand
+trembled violently. She rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not
+dreaming. The printed columns fascinated her, and she read on and on
+until she came to the end of the sad tale of shame and disgrace.
+
+The whole truth now flashed into Nance's mind with a startling
+intensity. Her brain reeled, her heart seemed numbed at the shock, and
+the light of life, with all its joy, went out. She stared long and hard
+at the heading of the article. "Deposed by his Bishop." How terrible
+seemed those words. And there was the name of the man who had fallen,
+"The Rev. Martin Rutland." Again she read through the entire story,
+every word of criticism, scorn, and condemnation searing her heart like
+red-hot iron. Could it be possible that this was some one else? she
+asked herself. She knew very well that it could not be, for why then
+should her father have the clipping in his possession? A groan escaped
+her parched lips as she endeavoured to view calmly the whole situation.
+
+Many things which had hitherto puzzled her were instantly cleared up,
+and she understood for the first time the reason of Martin's peculiar
+actions since the arrival of the miners. She knew why he had fled away
+from the ways of civilisation to live alone in the wilderness. He did
+not wish to meet people who knew of his disgrace. This, too, was why he
+would not go to service on Sunday. And to think that for years he had
+been deceiving her. While she believed him to be so true and noble, he
+was in reality a man utterly disgraced, an outcast from the Church and
+society.
+
+A feeling of bitter resentment rushed into her heart. Why had he treated
+her thus? Why had he pretended to be so good when all the time he was
+evil, and his whole life a sham? How could she ever face him again,
+knowing everything, and what he really was? He might return at any
+moment, and find her sitting there with the clipping in her hand. She
+did not want to meet him, for she felt that she could not bear to do so.
+She must get away, and hurry back to the hospital.
+
+Carefully replacing the paper in the book, Nance went back to the shelf
+from which she had taken it. She paused and looked around the room,
+thinking that perhaps this would be the last time that she should ever
+see it again. Everywhere she beheld the work of Martin's hands: the
+tables, chairs, and decorations on the walls. She turned and walked to
+her own little room, which she entered. There, too, she saw how he had
+fitted up everything for her comfort. Then in an instant there came to
+her a great reversal of feeling. Martin, the outcast, disappeared, and
+in his stead she beheld a man strong, patient, and gentle, who had been
+to her both a father and a mother during her whole life. She thought of
+what he had done for her, how he had striven for her welfare, and cared
+for her when she would have been left to the uncertain mercy of the
+Indians. A love deep and strong filled her heart for this man. She
+pictured to herself how he must have suffered during his exile in the
+wilderness, knowing that nothing could ever undo the past, and that he
+would never be forgiven by the Church which had cast him out. If she
+turned against him would it not break his heart entirely? No, she would
+be faithful, and he should never know that she had seen the paper, or
+had the least idea of his past life. It would remain a secret with her,
+and she would never breathe a word to any one, not even to Dick.
+
+Nance was standing erect in her room as this resolve firmly fixed itself
+upon her mind. Her face became radiant with a new light, and her eyes
+shone with the intensity of her great purpose. For a while she stood
+there, thinking deep, earnest thoughts. A new sense of responsibility
+came to her. She now saw that life was not all joy and happiness. There
+was a tragic depth beneath into which for the first time she had been
+permitted a brief glimpse.
+
+And while standing there she heard some one calling her by name.
+Hurrying forth from her room, she saw Dick coming to meet her. There was
+no smile upon his face, but instead an expression of deep concern was
+depicted there, such as Nance had never seen before. Something had
+happened, she felt certain, for what else could make Dick look at her in
+that way?
+
+"What is it?" she gasped. "There's something the matter, I'm sure."
+
+"You are wanted at the hospital, Nance," was the reply.
+
+"Is Nurse Marion ill?"
+
+"No. It's your father."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOWS
+
+
+Outwardly Nance was very calm as she closed the door and swiftly put on
+her snow-shoes. But her heart was heating rapidly, and she was filled
+with grave apprehensions.
+
+"What is it?" she asked as she moved along over the snow by Dick's side.
+"Don't hide anything from me. I want to know all."
+
+"There is but little to tell, Nance," the young man replied. "It seems
+that the Indian Taku was awakened last night by the whining of one of
+his dogs outside the cabin door. When he had let the animal in he found
+that it was one of the two your father had taken with him. The poor
+creature was almost exhausted. It was carrying its harness and dragging
+its traces. Taku surmised that something was wrong and he at once
+started forth in the direction from which the dog had come. The storm
+had ceased, and the moon was full when he set out, so it was easy for
+him to follow the dog's tracks. They led away from Quaska, up the river,
+and then off to the left through that long wooded valley. He had passed
+only a short distance out of the woods on the upper side into a desolate
+region, when he found a miner, Tim Ralston, with a broken leg, lying on
+a sled. By his side was your father, unconscious, and to all appearance
+dead. With much difficulty Taku brought both men into the woods, made a
+small fire, and started off in post-haste for help. As luck would have
+it, he overtook Tom, who had been storm-stayed up the creek, and
+together they brought the two helpless men to the hospital. That, in
+brief, is the story."
+
+As Dick ended, Nance stopped, laid her hand lightly upon his arm, and
+looked searchingly into his face.
+
+"Will he live?" she gasped.
+
+"I can't say. He has been terribly exposed. I am afraid it will go hard
+with him."
+
+"And he did it for Tim!" Nance murmured. "He gave his life to save
+another."
+
+Her thoughts flashed to the newspaper clipping, and her heart rebuked
+her for her harsh judgment but a short time before. Now she understood
+the motive of her father's unceasing efforts on behalf of the miners,
+especially this last and greatest sacrifice of all. She did not,
+however, reveal her knowledge to Dick, but hastened on, anxious to reach
+Martin's side as soon as possible. Arriving at length at the hospital
+door, she and Dick laid aside their snow-shoes, and quietly entered. All
+was still within as they passed through the main ward into Nurse
+Marion's room.
+
+Here Martin was lying upon the one cot the room contained, and by his
+side sat the nurse. She did not hear the steps at the door, for her
+thoughts were upon the unconscious man before her. In her eyes was an
+expression which had not been seen there since the days when he so often
+visited her in her old home years before. She was thinking of that time
+now, and she was picturing Martin as she then knew him. At first it was
+hard for her to believe that this bronzed and bearded man was the same
+as she had known then and cherished in her memory ever since. She
+studied his face and saw there something of the terrible struggle
+through which he had passed. She imagined his agony of mind after his
+fall, and what it must have meant for him to live away in the
+wilderness, cut off from all the benefits of civilised life. No sense of
+anger or reproach came to her mind now as she sat there, but only a pity
+and a love, such as she had never known, possessed her heart.
+
+Nance paused but for an instant at the door, and then with a cry hurried
+forward, and knelt by the side of the bed. She seized Martin's right
+hand in hers, and pressed it to her lips.
+
+"Daddy! daddy!" she cried. "I am here. Speak to me. It is Nance."
+
+But no sign of recognition came from the unconscious form upon the cot.
+As Nance continued to press the outstretched hand, Nurse Marion rose and
+walked over to the window, and looked out upon the world of snow beyond.
+Tumultuous thoughts surged suddenly through her mind as she saw Nance
+kneeling by the bed and listened to her wailing cry. What right had this
+girl to supplant her? Had she been all sufficient to Martin, and had he
+forgotten Beryl, to whom he had given his heart and hand? For the first
+time in years a revulsion of feeling swept upon her. She had been a fool
+to believe that Martin had remembered her. He cared only for Nance, and
+his first love had grown cold. Years of separation had done it, and what
+vain fancy had led her to imagine that he still cared for her? She saw
+it now as never before. She must get away from the place. But where
+should she go, with the rivers frozen and the land snow-locked on every
+side?
+
+Those few moments had wrought a marvellous transformation in Nurse
+Marion's face. It was calm--terribly calm--when at last she went back to
+Martin's side. She was the professional nurse now, ready to do her duty
+to the utmost, but no more. She had other patients in the hospital to
+care for, and she busied herself with them during most of the day. She
+had little to say to the watchers by Martin's side, and they, occupied
+with their deep anxiety, did not notice her unusual silence. Then, when
+all her other tasks were done, she sat with Nance and Dick through the
+long hours of the night. She had to be doing something, so she brought
+her needle-work, and though her fingers were busy, and at times her head
+drooped, she hardly realised what she was doing.
+
+Since he had been brought into the hospital Martin had not shown the
+least sign of consciousness. He had lain as one in a deep sleep. But as
+the night wore away, and the dawn of a new day was breaking he began to
+move, and then to toss restlessly upon the cot. At last he opened his
+eyes and stared vacantly around the room.
+
+"Tim! Tim!" he called. "Are you cold? Here's my jacket. It'll keep you
+warm."
+
+His eyes next roved to the watchers near by until they rested upon the
+nurse's face. He did not seem at all surprised to see her there.
+
+"Beryl."
+
+At that word the needle-work dropped from the nurse's hand, her face
+went white as death, though she uttered not a sound.
+
+"Are the hymns all ready, Beryl?" Martin continued. "It's almost church
+time, and I can't wait any longer."
+
+"He thinks you are Beryl," Nance whispered. But the nurse made no reply.
+She sat erect, rigid, with staring eyes fixed full upon the man before
+her.
+
+A troubled expression now came into Martin's eyes, and his fingers moved
+over the blanket as if in search of something. "I can't find them," he
+murmured. "The bread--the wine--some one has hidden them. Ah, ah, here
+they are," and his fingers closed eagerly upon some imaginary objects.
+Then a semblance of a smile flickered about the corners of his mouth,
+and his voice was low and reverent as his lips moved--"Take--and
+eat--this--in remembrance--that Christ--died--for thee--and feed--on
+Him----"
+
+His voice trailed off into silence, and for a while he lay very still.
+"Ah, ah!" he cried, starting suddenly up, while a fierce light glowed in
+his eyes, "I defy you! The Church is nothing to me, and I will live
+without it! Get out of my house, you impostor," he roared, looking now
+at Dick. "You come here to steal Nance from me! But you won't get her!
+No, by heavens! she shall never be yours! The Church! The Church! I
+don't care for the Church! It has cast me out. I will live without it!
+Get out, I say. Don't torture me! For God's sake, go!"
+
+To say that the missionary was surprised at the remarks of this raving
+man is putting it too mildly. He was astounded. What could be the
+meaning of it all? he asked himself. Why did he refer to the hymns,
+repeat those words of the Communion Service, and speak so fiercely about
+the Church? Was it possible that this man had once been a clergyman? The
+idea came to him now with a startling intensity. In an instant there
+flashed into his mind Martin's peculiar actions ever since he had known
+him, his strange behaviour and fitful moods. Was this the reason, then,
+why this educated man had lived for long years in the wilderness? Had he
+been deposed by the Church in which he had once been a clergyman? Dick
+knew now that such must have been the case, and a feeling such as he had
+never before experienced came upon him. He sank into the chair he had
+recently vacated, and buried his face in his hands. He had at times
+heard of men who had left the Ministry through some misdemeanour, but
+never until now did he understand what it really meant. As he listened
+to Martin's ravings he comprehended something of the agony of mind which
+had been his through his long wilderness life.
+
+And thus the three sat, watched, and waited, as the unconscious man
+tossed upon the cot. There was little that they could do except think.
+The missionary understood a little now of the past history of the man
+before him, while Nance knew more. But neither realised that Nurse
+Marion, sitting near with hands tightly clasped upon her lap, knew all,
+and yet remained silent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+REFINED GOLD
+
+
+For days the raging fever held Martin in its terrible grip. Never once
+was he conscious of his surroundings, and most trying was it for the
+patient watchers to listen to his wild ravings. Every night Tom came to
+the hospital to take his turn by the side of the sick man. In fact, he
+would have remained part of each day as well if he had been permitted to
+do so, and he always grumbled when he was ordered by Dick to go and get
+some sleep. Nurse Marion sat at times with Tom. She found it difficult
+to rest, as she did not know at what moment Martin might need more help
+than the miner could give.
+
+One day she was sitting alone by the bed, with her needle-work, as
+usual, in her hands. The sufferer was still and to all appearance
+asleep. Sounds of the violin came from the outer room, where Nance was
+playing softly for the benefit of the few patients who were there. The
+strains brought a restful feeling into the nurse's heart, for it had
+been weeks since she had heard the sound of music. Presently her work
+dropped into her lap, and her hands remained idle. Her eyes gazed off
+through the window before her, though she saw nothing.
+
+She was startled from her reverie by a light touch upon her hand.
+Glancing down, great was her surprise to see Martin looking intently
+into her face. In his eyes was the light of reason, mingled with
+surprise. The nurse was on her feet in an instant, bending over the cot.
+
+"Hush," she soothed, as if Martin were a child awaking from sleep.
+"Don't speak now."
+
+"I must," Martin feebly breathed. "Are you Beryl? I woke, and thought I
+was dreaming, and so I touched your hand to be sure."
+
+"Yes, I am Beryl," was the reply. "But you must not talk any more. You
+are very weak."
+
+With a deep sigh, whether of regret or contentment the nurse could not
+tell, Martin closed his eyes, and in a few moments passed into a restful
+and a natural sleep. Nurse Marion stood very still for a while watching
+him. Just what her thoughts were she alone knew, but her eyes were moist
+as she presently turned and walked softly into the large ward outside.
+
+As the days passed Martin rapidly improved, and at length he was able to
+sit up. The miners came often to see him, for they all held him in high
+regard for what he had done for Tim. But Martin was never so happy as
+when Beryl was in the room. Neither had once mentioned the days years
+ago, and to outward eyes they were friends and nothing more. But little
+did people realise what was taking place in the hearts of both patient
+and nurse alike. Beryl was ever on her guard lest she should let slip
+the slightest word which might betray her inmost feelings. The
+bitterness of that day when Nance had first knelt by the cot had passed
+away. But she did not know what Martin thought of her, though at times
+she found his eyes fixed upon her in a puzzled way.
+
+Martin, in fact, did not know what to make of Beryl's quiet constrained
+manner. If she had expressed surprise, or even upbraided him, he could
+have understood it. But she never alluded to the past. She waited upon
+him, and talked about ordinary things, but that was all. This
+estrangement was hard for him to endure. He began to feel that she no
+longer cared for him. She knew what he had done, and so was determined
+to treat him as any other patient. Such was the situation between the
+two. Each believed that the other did not care, and so both made every
+effort not to reveal the real feelings enshrined within their hearts.
+
+One bright afternoon Nance and Dick crossed over the river to the lonely
+house to bring back some books for the Reading Room. Beryl watched them
+as they sped down to the river on their show-shoes--for there was no
+path in the deep snow. A sigh escaped her lips as she saw how happy they
+were. Laughingly they waved their hands to her as they reached the
+river, and saw her still at the window. What perfect understanding there
+is between them, she mused. Could any two people be more suited to each
+other than they?
+
+She remained gazing after them for a while, and then went into the room
+where Martin was sitting. She found him near the window facing the
+river. His eyes were filled with an inexpressible sadness as they
+followed Nance and Dick until they reached the log building beyond.
+Beryl stood watching him for a few heart beats, and then moved softly to
+his side. But Martin did not look up. Instead, his whole body drooped,
+his head bent forward, and he buried his face in his hands as if trying
+to shut out something from his view.
+
+"What is it?" Beryl asked, in a voice tremulous with emotion. "Are you
+not feeling well? Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+"Beryl," and Martin lifted his face, which was now drawn and haggard.
+
+"Yes--Martin," was the faint reply.
+
+"Sit down, Beryl. There, that's better."'
+
+A deep silence now reigned in the room. Martin's gaze wandered out
+through the window, but the nurse saw nothing. Neither did she hear
+anything, except the wild beating of her own heart. She longed to do
+something to comfort the visibly distressed man nearby. But she felt
+powerless, and no words could she utter.
+
+"Why must I suffer like this, Beryl?" burst at last from Martin's lips.
+"There, there!" he cried, lifting a thin warning hand. "Don't speak
+until I am through. I know why I suffer. It's just, and what else could
+I expect. But, my God! is there to be no end? Is this suffering of
+mind--this hell, never to cease? Why did they not let me die out there
+in the snow?"
+
+"Hush, hush! Martin," and Beryl rose to her feet, and laid her hand
+lightly upon his shoulder. "Don't talk that way! I can't stand it!"
+
+"I must talk. Don't try to stop me. Did you see them going over the
+river?" he asked. "How happy they are. I am nothing to Nance now. Dick
+is everything, and I am only in the way. What have I to live for?"
+
+These words caused Beryl to straighten up suddenly. The trembling
+emotion which had possessed her departed, leaving her very white and
+calm. Then it was Nance he alone cared for, she told herself. Of her
+only he thought. Yes, she knew now, and why had she expected anything
+else?
+
+"Beryl," Martin continued, after a pause, "do you see how happy they
+are? They are everything to each other. We, too, might have been as
+happy--but--but for my----How can you look at me, or speak to me, Beryl?
+You know what I did, and what an outcast I am to-day from God and the
+Church. Is there any one in the whole world so vile as I?"
+
+"But you have atoned for the past," Beryl soothed. "Think of what you
+have done."
+
+"Done! Done! Good Lord! what have I done that can ever merit forgiveness
+from an avenging God? Is there any pardon for one who disgraced his
+sacred office, broke his parents' hearts, and denounced his Church? Men
+may talk lightly of sin. But they know not what they are saying, nor its
+terrible consequences. Nothing can wipe out such a stain as mine, which
+is so great. There is murder on my hands!"
+
+"The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin," Beryl gently
+quoted, with tears now streaming down her cheeks. "Don't you, oh, don't
+you believe it?"
+
+"I believe it, but I don't feel it. It doesn't give me peace. What can
+wash away _my_ sins, which are so great?"
+
+"'If any man sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the
+righteous, and He is the propitiation for our sins,'" Beryl once more
+quoted.
+
+"Ah, ah," and Martin slightly raised his head. "There is comfort in
+those words. 'If any man sin,' and 'Jesus' blood cleanseth us from all
+sin,' Beryl," and he now looked up full into her face. "You know how
+great are my sins, do you really think that they can ever be forgiven?"
+
+Beryl at once leaned forward and caught his right hand in hers.
+"Martin," she cried, "I forgave you long ago, and will not He, whose
+love and mercy are so great, be more ready to forgive?"
+
+Into Martin's eyes came an expression of surprise, mingled with hope.
+
+"Do you mean it, Beryl?" he asked, in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
+"That you forgive me? I can't believe it!"
+
+"Yes, yes; it's true. I forgave you long ago. Even when every one
+denounced you I still believed in you."
+
+"Is it possible? Is it possible?" and Martin gazed absently out of the
+window. "What reason had you to forgive me?"
+
+"Perhaps there was none," Beryl gently replied. "When a woman loves she
+doesn't seek for a reason; she never thinks of it. True love is of the
+heart, and not of the head."
+
+"And I believed that you had forgotten!" Martin murmured.
+
+"So you thought of me--sometimes, then?" Beryl questioned.
+
+"Thought of you!" Martin passionately cried, seizing both of her hands
+in his. "Day and night during those long terrible years you were never
+out of my mind. But for the thought of you I would not be here to-day."
+
+He paused suddenly, and the woman standing by his side could feel his
+form tremble as if shaken by some violent emotion.
+
+"Beryl," came at last low and tense from his lips, "is it too late? You
+know what I mean. Do you care enough for me to--to----"
+
+"To take up life where we laid it down years ago? Is that what you
+mean?"
+
+"Yes, that's it, Beryl. Oh, can we?"
+
+"What is there to hinder?" was the quiet response. "Why should we be
+separated any longer when we mean so much to each other?"
+
+The only reply Martin made was to reach out and enfold Beryl in his arms
+as she sank into the chair by his side. Her face was close to his, and
+their lips met. At last the struggle, doubt, and uncertainty were ended.
+A peace such as they had not known for years came into their hearts.
+Their lives, like two turbulent streams long parted, were at last
+reunited, to flow on as one, strong and deep.
+
+For over an hour they sat and talked about the future. Time was as
+nothing to them now, and they were surprised when the door opened and
+Nance and Dick entered. Beryl rose instantly to her feet, while a flush
+mantled her cheeks and brow. But Nance did not notice her agitation, so
+engrossed was she with her own affairs. Hurrying across the room, she
+threw her arms about the nurse's neck, and gave her an affectionate
+kiss. She then knelt by Martin's side, and looked up into his face.
+
+"Daddy, oh, daddy!" she cried, "I am so happy!" Then words failed her,
+and she hid her blushing face in her hands.
+
+Dick, who had been standing in the middle of the room, now came forward,
+and stood before Martin. "May I have her?" he simply asked. "Nance has
+promised to be my wife if you will give your consent."
+
+For a few heart beats there was a tense silence, while Martin sat gazing
+off into space. He was thinking of the past, and of a little child he
+had rescued from the Indians on the bank of the Mackenzie River years
+before. Presently his eyes sought those of the young man before him.
+
+"Do you know that Nance is not my child?" he asked in a hesitating
+voice. "I do not even know her parents' names."
+
+"Yes, I know," Dick replied. "But that doesn't make any difference."
+
+"If you had asked me for Nance a month, nay, even an hour ago," Martin
+continued, "I should have refused you. She was all I had in the world.
+But now it is different. You may have her, for I have one to take her
+place. I have found my Beryl. She has come back to me."
+
+At these words Nance sprang to her feet, and looked eagerly and
+curiously around the room. Seeing only the nurse standing there with a
+happy smile upon her face, she was much puzzled, and turned to Martin
+for an explanation.
+
+"Oh, daddy!" she exclaimed, "how you startled me! What did you mean by
+saying that Beryl had come back?"
+
+"And so she has, dear. This is my long lost Beryl you see before you."
+
+For an instant only Nance stood there, her eyes filled with wonder. Then
+they brightened, with complete understanding, and with a glad cry she
+sprang toward the nurse, who caught her in her arms, and showered kisses
+upon the fair, fresh face turned up to hers.
+
+During the remainder of the afternoon all was excitement within that
+little room. There was so much to talk about that it was supper time
+before they were half through. While Beryl and Nance were preparing the
+simple repast the two men discussed plans for the future.
+
+"You must stay right here," Dick told Martin. "We can work so much
+better together."
+
+"But only as a helper," was the low reply. "Remember I am an outcast,
+and----"
+
+"Hush," Dick interrupted, "don't speak of that again. Let the past be
+buried forever."
+
+Scarcely had the four sat down to supper ere a knock sounded upon the
+door. When it was opened Tom and Old Dad entered. They were given a
+hearty welcome, and room was made for them at the table. Soon the whole
+story was told, and nothing would do the visitors but they must rise and
+grasp the hands of the happy couples, and wish them much joy. Tom was so
+excited that he could eat but little, and for once his tongue seemed
+tied. When the meal was ended he pushed back from the table, and ran his
+fingers thoughtfully through his hair.
+
+"If I only had a smoke," he remarked, "it 'ud certainly relieve my
+feelin's."
+
+"Smoke to your heart's content," Beryl laughingly replied.
+
+"What! Here?"
+
+"Yes. Make yourself perfectly at home."
+
+"I guess a game of chess would relieve _my_ feelin's," and Dad looked
+eagerly into Nance's face as he spoke. "D'ye feel equal fer the battle
+after all this excitement?"
+
+"Why, yes," was the cheerful response. "Just as soon as these dishes are
+washed we shall have a game."
+
+What an evening that was on the bank of the Quaska River in that room in
+the hospital. Happiness reigned supreme, for the black clouds had all
+disappeared. When the game was ended they talked about the visit which
+would be made next summer to the great world outside of which Nance had
+heard so much, but had never seen. Then the two newly-wedded couples
+would return to carry on the work in the place which was so dear to
+their hearts.
+
+"An' we'll be here to give yez a house-warmin', hey, Dad?" Tom
+exclaimed, with joy depicted upon his honest, rugged face.
+
+"Sure thing," was the reply. "An' mebbe ye'll git a few new wrinkles at
+chess," he slyly added, turning to Nance, at which they all laughed.
+
+Then just before they parted for the night, Martin asked for his violin.
+Nance brought hers, too, and together they played, the first time in
+months. There were no sad wailing notes now, but only such music as
+wells freely from hearts full of love, gratitude, and happiness.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+
+_THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS_
+
+A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of
+frontier warfare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is
+captured by bandits. A surprising climax brings the story to a
+delightful close.
+
+
+_THE RAINBOW TRAIL_
+
+The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great
+western uplands--until at last love and faith awake.
+
+
+_DESERT GOLD_
+
+The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with
+the finding of the gold which two prospectors had willed to the girl who
+is the story's heroine.
+
+
+_RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE_
+
+A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon
+authority ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the theme of the
+story.
+
+
+_THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN_
+
+This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones,
+known as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert
+and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of deep canons and giant
+pines."
+
+
+_THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT_
+
+A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young
+New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall
+become the second wife of one of the Mormons--Well, that's the problem
+of this great story.
+
+
+_THE SHORT STOP_
+
+The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and
+fortune as a professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are
+followed by such success as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty
+ought to win.
+
+
+_BETTY ZANE_
+
+This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful
+young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
+
+
+_THE LONE STAR RANGER_
+
+After killing a man in self defense Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along
+the Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a
+young girl held prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down
+upon himself the wrath of her captors and henceforth is hunted on one
+side by honest men, on the other by outlaws.
+
+
+_THE BORDER LEGION_
+
+Joan Randle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless
+Western mining camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved
+him--she followed him out. On her way, she is captured by a bandit band,
+and trouble begins when she shoots Kells, the leader--and nurses him to
+health again. Here enters another romance when Joan, disguised as an
+outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold strike, a
+thrilling robbery--gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS._
+
+By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey
+
+The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," as told by
+his sister and Zane Grey. It begins with his boyhood in Iowa and his
+first encounter with an Indian. We see "Bill" as a pony express rider,
+then near Fort Sumter as Chief of the Scouts, and later engaged in the
+most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is also a very interesting
+account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No character in public
+life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than "Buffalo
+Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous.
+
+
+
+
+BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS
+
+
+_SEVENTEEN._ Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+
+_PENROD._ Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
+tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a
+finished, exquisite work.
+
+
+_PENROD AND SAM._ Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.
+
+
+_THE TURMOIL._ Illustrated by G. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success.
+
+
+_THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA._ Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+
+_THE FLIRT._ Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another
+to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising
+suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+
+
+
+THE NOVELS OF GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON
+
+
+_GRAUSTARK._ Illustrated with Scenes from the Play.
+
+With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new type of
+story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It is the story of
+love behind a throne in a new and strange country.
+
+
+_BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK._ Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+This is a sequel to "Graustark." A bewitching American girl visits the
+little principality and there has a romantic love affair.
+
+
+_PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK._ Illustrations by A. I. Keller.
+
+The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the heroine of
+"Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multimillionaire with a
+brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in the story.
+
+
+_BREWSTER'S MILLIONS._
+
+Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play.
+
+A young man, required to spend one million dollars in one year, in order
+to inherit _seven_, accomplishes the task in this lively story.
+
+
+_COWARDICE COURT._
+
+Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood.
+
+A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a social feud
+in the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted into being a
+traitor by a romantic young American.
+
+
+_THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND._ Illustrated by A. I. Keller.
+
+A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, born of the
+scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth.
+
+
+_WHAT'S-HIS-NAME._ Illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
+
+"What's-His-Name" is the husband of a beautiful and popular actress who
+is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. The very opposite
+manner in which these two live their lives brings a dramatic climax to
+the story.
+
+
+
+
+THE NOVELS OF MARY ROBERTS RINEHART
+
+
+_"K."_ Illustrated.
+
+K. LeMoyne, famous surgeon, drops out of the world that has known him,
+and goes to live in a little town where beautiful Sidney Page lives. She
+is in training to become a nurse. The joys and troubles of their young
+love are told with that keen and sympathetic appreciation which has made
+the author famous.
+
+
+_THE MAN IN LOWER TEN._ Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy.
+
+An absorbing detective story woven around the mysterious death of the
+"Man in Lower Ten." The strongest elements of Mrs. Rinehart's success
+are found in this book.
+
+
+_WHEN A MAN MARRIES._ Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker.
+
+A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him; finds that his
+aunt is soon to visit him. The aunt, who contributes to the family
+income and who has never seen the wife, knows nothing of the domestic
+upheaval. How the young man met the situation is humorously and most
+entertainingly told.
+
+
+_THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE._ Illus. by Lester Ralph.
+
+The summer occupants of "Sunnyside" find the dead body of Arnold
+Armstrong, the son of the owner, on the circular staircase. Following
+the murder a bank failure is announced. Around these two events is woven
+a plot of absorbing interest.
+
+
+_THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS._ Illustrated (Photo Play Edition.)
+
+Harmony Wells, studying in Vienna to be a great violinist, suddenly
+realizes that her money is almost gone. She meets a young ambitious
+doctor who offers her chivalry and sympathy, and together with
+world-worn Dr. Anna and Jimmie, the waif, they share their love and
+slender means.
+
+
+
+
+STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER
+
+
+_MICHAEL O'HALLORAN._ Illustrated by Frances Rogers.
+
+Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern
+Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes
+the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and
+onward.
+
+
+_LADDIE._ Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.
+
+This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story
+is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it
+is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs
+of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and
+the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood
+and about whose family there hangs a mystery.
+
+
+_THE HARVESTER._ Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.
+
+"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had
+nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable.
+But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance
+of the rarest idyllic quality.
+
+
+_FRECKLES._ Illustrated.
+
+Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he
+takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great
+Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to
+the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The
+Angel" are full of real sentiment.
+
+
+_A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST._ Illustrated.
+
+The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of
+the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness
+towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of
+her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and
+unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage.
+
+
+_AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW._ Illustrations in colors.
+
+The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The
+story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love.
+The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and
+its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all.
+
+
+_THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL._ Profusely Illustrated.
+
+A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and big mate, told with delicacy and
+humor.
+
+
+
+
+KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES
+
+
+_MOTHER._ Illustrated by F. G. Yohn.
+
+This book has a fairy-story touch, counterbalanced by the sturdy reality
+of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace and power of a mother's
+experiences.
+
+
+_SATURDAY'S CHILD._ Frontispiece by F. Graham Cootes.
+
+Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, makes a
+quest for happiness. She passes through three stages--poverty, wealth
+and service--and works out a creditable salvation.
+
+
+_THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE._ Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock.
+
+The story of a sensible woman who keeps within her means, refuses to be
+swamped by social engagements, lives a normal human life of varied
+interests, and has her own romance.
+
+
+_THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE._ Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert.
+
+How Julia Page, reared in rather unpromising surroundings, lifted
+herself through sheer determination to a higher plane of life.
+
+
+_THE HEART OF RACHAEL._ Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers.
+
+Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in working out these,
+there is shown the beauty and strength of soul of one of fiction's most
+appealing characters.
+
+
+
+
+JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
+
+
+_JOHN BARLEYCORN._ Illustrated by H. T. Dunn.
+
+This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amasing
+experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with
+alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a
+string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable
+idea and makes a typical Jack London book.
+
+
+_THE VALLEY OF THE MOON._ Frontispiece by George Harper.
+
+The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and
+ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and
+marry. They tramp from one end of California to the other, and in the
+Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is to be their salvation.
+
+
+_BURNING DAYLIGHT._ Four illustrations.
+
+The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations
+of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to
+the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and
+recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a
+merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to drinking and
+becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time he falls in love with
+his stenographer and wins her heart but not her hand and then--but read
+the story!
+
+
+_A SON OF THE SUN._ Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C.W. Ashley.
+
+David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from
+England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native
+and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life
+appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy.
+
+
+_THE CALL OF THE WILD._ Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and Charles
+Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper.
+
+A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits could be.
+Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to
+transport the reader to primitive scenes.
+
+
+_THE SEA WOLF._ Illustrated by W. J. Aylward.
+
+Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into
+the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of
+adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail
+with delight.
+
+
+_WHITE FANG._ Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bun.
+
+"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the frozen
+north; he gradually comes under the Spell of man's companionship, and
+surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is
+man's loving slave.
+
+
+
+
+SEWELL FORD'S STORIES
+
+
+_SHORTY McCABE._ Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+A very humorous story. The hero, an independent and vigorous thinker,
+sees life, and tells about it in a very unconventional way.
+
+
+_SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY._ Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+Twenty skits, presenting people with their foibles. Sympathy with human
+nature and an abounding sense of humor are the requisites "side-stepping
+with Shorty."
+
+
+_SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB._ Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+Shorty McCabe reappears with his figures of speech revamped right up to
+the minute. He aids in the right distribution of a "conscience fund,"
+and gives joy to all concerned.
+
+
+_SHORTY McCABE'S ODD NUMBERS._ Illustrated by Francis Vaux Wilson.
+
+These further chronicles of Shorty McCabe tell of his studio for
+physical culture, and of his experiences both on the East side and at
+swell yachting parties.
+
+
+_TORCHY._ Illus. by Geo. Biehm and Jas. Montgomery Flagg.
+
+A red-headed office boy, overflowing with wit and wisdom peculiar to the
+youths reared on the sidewalks of New York, tells the story of his
+experiences.
+
+
+_TRYING OUT TORCHY._ Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy is just as deliriously funny in these stories as he was in the
+previous book.
+
+
+_ON WITH TORCHY._ Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy falls desperately in love with "the only girl that ever was," but
+that young society woman's aunt tries to keep the young people apart,
+which brings about many hilariously funny situations.
+
+
+_TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC._ Illustrated by F. Foster Lincoln.
+
+Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for
+the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious
+American slang.
+
+
+_WILT THOU TORCHY._ Illus. by F. Snapp and A. W. Brown.
+
+Torchy goes on a treasure search expedition to the Florida West Coast,
+in company with a group of friends of the Corrugated Trust and with his
+friend's aunt, on which trip Torchy wins the aunt's permission to place
+an engagement ring on Vee's finger.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN FOX, JR'S. STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS
+
+
+_THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE._ Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
+
+The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree
+that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine
+lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he
+finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the
+_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and
+the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder
+chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine."
+
+
+_THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME_ Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
+
+This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It
+is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often
+springs the flower of civilization.
+
+"Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he
+came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood,
+seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and
+mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif,
+by the way, who could play the banjo better that anyone else in the
+mountains.
+
+
+_A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND._ Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
+
+The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of
+moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the
+heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two
+impetuous young Southerners' fall under the spell of "The Blight's"
+charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the
+love making of the mountaineers.
+
+Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of
+Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.
+
+
+
+
+B. M. Bower's Novels
+
+Thrilling Western Romances
+
+
+_CHIP, OF THE FLYING U_
+
+A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia
+Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil
+Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very
+amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher.
+
+
+_THE HAPPY FAMILY_
+
+A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen
+jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find
+Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively
+and exciting adventures.
+
+
+_HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT_
+
+A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners
+who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana
+ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and
+the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.
+
+
+_THE RANGE DWELLERS_
+
+Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited
+action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet
+courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull
+page.
+
+
+_THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS_
+
+A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the
+cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud"
+Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim
+trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love.
+
+
+_THE LONESOME TRAIL_
+
+"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city
+life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the
+atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown
+eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.
+
+
+_THE LONG SHADOW_
+
+A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a
+mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of
+life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to
+finish.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of If Any Man Sin, by H. A. Cody
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IF ANY MAN SIN ***
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