If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"We do not mind," was the reply. "It is so nice to be able to help people in trouble."

"I am afraid there may be more who will need assistance," and the young man turned his face sadly toward the lake. "Among all that crowd there's something sure to be happening every day."

Martin stood near at hand and watched Dick as he reset the broken leg and put it in splints. He could not help admiring the skilful way in which everything was done. As he looked upon the stricken man lying before him he was thankful for the first time that Dick Russell was present. If he were simply a medical man and not a missionary, Martin would have been delighted. He thought of the days years ago when, in his old parish in Eastern Canada, he had longed to be a doctor as well as a clergyman. There had been several outlying places where the people were very poor. What a comfort it would have been to them, and what an assistance to him in his work, could he have attended to their bodily wants. And now this young man was doing what he had desired to do, and was unable through lack of training.

A sudden revulsion of feeling came over Martin as he watched Dick doing so much for the stricken miner. Here was this man, young in years, doing an unselfish work, while he himself was useless. The missionary had given up home and the comforts of civilisation, and was living in the wilderness, not for the sake of gold, but to help others. And what was he himself doing? He had disgraced his calling; his Church had cast him out, and he in turn had repudiated her. He had thought that it would be an easy thing to free himself from her influence. But here, right in the region where he believed that he would be safe from all interference, and in his own cabin at that, stood a clergyman of the Church which had cast him out forever.

Then for the first time since he had been deposed came the feeling of his own selfishness. What had he really accomplished during his long sojourn in the wilderness? A longing suddenly rose in his heart to take up the work he had abandoned so many years before. He recalled the high ideals which had animated his soul when he took charge of his first and only parish. They were just as lofty and noble, he believed, as those of the young man now standing before him.

After the injured man was resting as comfortably as could be expected, Martin, Nance, and Dick sat for a while outside the door. The evening was balmy and the air delightful. The Northern Packet had moved away, and was lying close to the shore just across the mouth of the Quaska. Dick related his experiences on the steamer, and told in a humorous way the inconveniences the passengers endured. Martin had very little to say for some time. He leaned back against the house, smoking and listening intently. Nance was very happy. Often she turned her eyes full upon Dick's face, and at times her joyous laugh rippled forth at some droll story.

The sun had just swung low behind a tall mountain peak and heavy shadows were lying athwart the calm surface of the lake. The only sounds which disturbed the peaceful scene came from the men unloading the steamer. Martin gazed over the water and far beyond the black forest. His pipe was clutched in his right hand, and he had the appearance of a man oblivious as to his surroundings. Presently he shifted a little on the bench and glanced at Dick. The latter was sitting near Nance, silent, and watching with her the operations going on across the river. Martin beheld the thoughtful young faces aglow with a light which was more than the reflection of the departing sun.

"What led you to come into this country?" Martin quietly asked, turning toward Dick.

The latter gave a slight start, as if aroused from a dream, and looked searchingly into his inquirer's face.

"It was the Royal Bounty which did it," was the slow reply.