If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"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.