If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

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!"