If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

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.