If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"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."