If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"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.