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diff --git a/36368.txt b/36368.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b34d020 --- /dev/null +++ b/36368.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9800 @@ +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. 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