BEGINNINGS
Morning dawned clear and fresh. The sun was abroad early, and the filmy
mist hovering over the lake soon vanished before the hot rays. The
gold-seekers on the shore were astir at break of day. Some, in fact, had
been busy all night selecting suitable sites and pitching their tents.
The steamer was nearly unloaded, and the captain was anxious to hurry
down the river as speedily as possible to return with another cargo
before the summer was over.
The miners had chosen this spot for their encampment because it was on
the side of the Quaska River where the gold had been discovered. They
would thus not have to cross the stream, but simply follow the trail to
the diggings. They wished to settle near the lake so that the steamers
could land their goods right at their doors, otherwise it would be
difficult to take the whole of their supplies up river. They could
easily pack what they would need for several days, and could always come
back to the lake for more.
Dick stood in the door of Martin's house watching the animated scene
across the river. Not a ripple stirred the surface of the lake, and the
dark trees and the towering mountains were reflected in the clear, deep
water. It appealed to his poetic nature. He had beheld many grand sights
since coming north, but this was the most beautiful and majestic upon
which he had ever gazed. "What grandeur," he mused, "and to think that
she has been living here in the midst of it all for years, far away from
the tumult of the world."
A step at his side caused him to turn, and his eyes rested upon the
object of his thoughts.
"Isn't it beautiful," Nance remarked in response to Dick's greeting. "I
love the lake, mountains, and trees. I have looked upon them ever since
I was a child, and they are very near to my heart."
"How fortunate they are," the young man murmured, gazing with admiration
upon her bright face.
"Oh, they know nothing about it," Nance laughed. "It is an all one-sided
love, you see."
"I wish that I could change places with them for a while. I wonder if
your feelings would be the same then."
A deep flush suffused Nance's cheeks at these words, and her eyes
dropped for an instant. Dick noticed her embarrassment, and he was
afraid lest he had offended her.
"Pardon me," he hastened to explain. "I fear that I have said too much.
I allowed my heart to overcome my head, or, in other words, I made a
fool of myself."
"You didn't offend me," Nance shyly replied. "I was thinking how funny
it would be if you took the place of the mountains, trees, and lake."
"And why?" Dick questioned.
"Because you would have such a hard time of it. You have only seen them
in peace and sunshine. If you could look upon them as I have, when a
fierce storm is raging over the land, you would not envy them then. But
I love them just the same. I like to hear the wind roaring down the
valley, to see the trees shake and bend, and the water of the lake
lashed into foam. Oh, it is grand!"
Dick looked with amazement into the face of the young woman at his side.
He saw it transformed. Her cheeks were aglow, and her eyes were very
bright as she gazed far off into space and beheld the scene she so
vividly described. He knew that it was no ordinary woman that uttered
such words. Though naturally quiet and reserved, there were within her
soul great depths of thought. She was in harmony with her surroundings,
and her rich blood pulsated to the tunes of the moods of the wilderness.
All this appealed strongly to Dick. To him she was the most beautiful
and yet mysterious woman he had ever met. Everything she said and did
was so natural. There was nothing artificial or unreal about her. To her
the veneer of polite social life was unknown.
As these thoughts passed through Dick's mind Martin suddenly appeared,
hurrying along the trail from the forest. His rifle was over his
shoulder, and he carried in his hand several grouse he had recently
shot. With a cry of joy Nance sprang to meet him, and Martin's face
brightened as she drew near. Taking the grouse from his hand, she walked
by his side.
"Where have you been, daddy?" she asked. "We have been waiting breakfast
for you."
"I am sorry, Nance, that I have kept you waiting," was the reply. "But I
have been out on the hills for several hours. And how is Pete?" was his
greeting to Dick as he reached the door.
"Doing as well as can be expected. He has had a fairly good night."
During breakfast Martin had very little to say, and Dick observed him as
carefully as he could without arousing any suspicion. He noted that his
host seemed ill at ease, that his face was drawn and haggard, and that
his eyes were big and staring. He seemed like a man who had been awake
all night, and whose thoughts were troubling him. He wondered if Nance
saw anything amiss with her father. He longed to speak to her, but had
no opportunity just then. When the meal was over Dick tended to the
wants of the injured man lying on the cot, and then made ready to leave
the house.
"May I have the use of your canoe, sir?" he asked, turning to Martin.
"Certainly, certainly," was the jerky reply, and Dick wondered more than
ever.
He thought much concerning the man's strange appearance as he paddled
swiftly across to the encampment on the opposite shore. Here he found
confusion and excitement. Men were busy unloading the steamer, and the
miners were searching for their goods among the piles of stuff thrown
out upon the bank. With difficulty Dick rescued his own meagre outfit,
and carried it to a secure place. Opening one of the bundles, he lifted
out a small leather writing-case, from which he took a sheet of paper
and an envelope. Seating himself upon his rolled-up tent, he began to
write. This letter was the outcome of many thoughts which had been
surging through his mind for days past. Several times while on the river
he had been upon the point of doing this, but had always put it off
until a more favourable opportunity. The accident which had happened to
Pete, and the fact that the steamer was soon to depart, made any further
delay unavoidable. He knew that help would be needed if he were to
accomplish any definite work among the miners. There was only one place
to which he could turn, and if he neglected to send a message now it
might be too late when the next steamer arrived.
When he had finished the letter he went on board the _Northern Packet_
and gave it to the captain, with strict instructions to deliver it at
the mission station of The Good Samaritan down river.
Hurrying ashore, he started to work at once upon his tent. The place he
chose for his abode was a snug spot near several large jack-pines. It
took him most of the morning to complete the task of erecting his tent,
and when at last all was finished he stood and looked upon his handiwork
with much satisfaction. The tent shone white beneath the sun, and not a
wrinkle marred the smoothness of the well-stretched canvas.
While Dick had been thus busy at work dozens of men around him were also
erecting their humble, flimsy abodes. A row of tents had been stretched
along the water front, several yards back from the shore of the lake.
Higher up on the shelving bank others were placed, while a street ran
between. On all sides pounding and shouting continued throughout the
day. Men were constantly moving about, all hustling as fast as they
could in order to get through with their work as speedily as possible.
It was the rude beginning of a frontier mining camp, which would develop
later into a town of wooden houses of considerable importance.
One tent much larger than any of the rest was being erected right in the
centre of the encampment. Dick watched this with more than ordinary
interest. The men who were doing the work had come up from the lower
river and were strangers to him, although he had seen them on the
steamer. He had not liked their appearance when first he saw them, and
they impressed him now more unfavourably than ever. There were three of
them, rough and foul-mouthed. At first he had partly suspected the
object of their visit into the country. Now he was certain that they
were not miners, but liquor dealers, and the tent they were erecting was
to be the saloon. Several cases piled together contained whiskey, he was
quite sure, and when these were opened he well knew what the result
would be. There was no one in authority to keep law and order, and he
shuddered as he thought of the wild scenes which would ensue when the
whiskey began to be circulated among the miners.
He naturally thought of Nance, and his face grew grave as he realised
the danger to which she would be constantly exposed. What regard would
drink-inflamed men have for the purity and the honour of the beautiful
woman across the river? he asked himself over and over again. Already,
no doubt, they knew of her presence in the little cabin. When sober they
might not interfere with her, but when mad with the demon of whiskey
there was no telling what they might do. There were several men in the
camp he could trust, especially Tom and Dad. But what could a few do
against so many?
The presence of Sam Pelchie and Dave Purvis disturbed him. They had put
up their miserable little tents, and were now loitering around, always
together. Several times Dick saw them engaged in earnest conversation
and casting furtive glances at the cabin across the Quaska. He suspected
these men, and firmly believed that they had some sinister motive in
their minds. "Could it be of Nance they were talking?" he mused. "Had
they heard of her down at Rapid City, and were their veiled remarks in
reference to her when they had spoken about Martin?" The more he thought
of these things, the more uneasy he became. Just what to do he did not
know, but he was determined to be on his guard, and keep as sharp a
watch as possible over the movements of the two men.
During the rest of the day Dick made himself useful in helping his
neighbours. The men who had lived all winter at Rapid City were not in
the least surprised at the assistance he gave, for they knew him of old.
But the newcomers were much astonished, and all agreed that the young
"parson chap was a real sort of a man after all."
That evening Dick crossed the river to see Nance and his patient. He
found the former seated by Martin in front of the house, for the evening
was very mild. She greeted the visitor with a smile as he sat down upon
the bench at her side. Martin had very little to say, and while he
puffed at his pipe the young people talked about the miners over the
river.
Dick was full of plans which had been revolving in his mind all day. He
said nothing about the saloon nor his suspicions as to what the miners
might do when inflamed with whiskey. He did not wish to alarm Nance, and
if necessary he would speak to Martin privately. His face became
animated as he told about the church he hoped to build and the hospital
tent he expected would be sent up from the mission station down river.
"I believe they can spare it," he added, "for the missionary in charge
told me that he had one he could let me have if ever I wanted it."
"So you think there will be need of a hospital, then?" Martin remarked.
"Certainly. We can't tell how soon several of those chaps may get
knocked out and will need attention. It has been the way in other large
mining camps, and this one is not likely to be an exception."
"Will you be able to care for them yourself?" Martin inquired. "It will
be quite an undertaking, will it not?"
"I have considered that matter very carefully and believe there will be
no trouble. I have written to the mission station down river, asking for
a trained nurse. I think they can spare one. As soon as the tent comes I
shall be able to hold services in it until we get a church built."
"What do you mean by a church?" Nance simply asked.
Dick gave a start, and looked at her in surprise.
"What!" he demanded, "didn't you ever hear of a church?"
"Only in books, but I could never understand what the word meant. I
suppose it is one of those wonderful things that people have in the
great outside world."
Dick now looked at Martin as if expecting him to speak. But the latter
was gazing far off over the lake, to all appearance seeing and hearing
nothing around him. His pipe was clutched firmly in his right hand. He
was sitting very straight, with body tense and rigid. At length he arose
abruptly to his feet.
"Nance doesn't know," and he turned to the young man as he spoke. "Tell
her if you like. I shall be back presently."
When he returned about an hour later he found the young couple sitting
where he had left them. He was quick to note the expression of happiness
upon their faces. They had eyes only for each other, and they could not
read the writing upon the countenance of the man who slowly approached,
and sank down wearily upon the seat he had vacated. They little realised
that while they were engaged in such a pleasant conversation Martin had
been wrestling hard with his own heart as he paced to and fro along the
margin of the lake. It was not for them to know of the forces which had
risen in his soul, and which at times had almost gained the mastery. It
was not easy to break the cords which had bound him for years. He had
taken such a grim joy in his spirit of rebellion, and the proud resolve
that he would have nothing more to do with the Church which had cast him
out. And yet in the presence of the missionary old longings returned
which he had imagined were dead and buried forever. He comprehended now
more than ever how true were the bishop's words. He had believed that
the influence of the Church was merely external. But now he knew that it
was within him, and that wherever he went he carried with him the
teachings he had received. He understood that the truths which had been
engrained into his very being were much like seeds. They might lie
dormant for years, and to all outward appearance dead. But the life was
within them still, and through proper environment of soil, air, and
sunshine they would spring forth into vigorous growth.
"Oh, daddy," was Nance's greeting. "I have heard such wonderful things.
You never told me about the Church. But," and here her voice lowered,
"Dick has been telling me so much."
"Has he?" Martin replied, and again lapsed into silence.
The missionary remained for some time after Martin returned, relating to
Nance many things of which she knew nothing. To all this she listened
with rapt attention. What she heard was all so wonderful to her, and
Dick was so enthusiastic that it was almost impossible not to be
affected by his spirit. It was late when at length he arose, and looked
in at Pete. Finding him asleep he went back out of doors. Nance was
standing there, but Martin had gone into the house. He stood by her
side, and gazed out over the water.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he remarked.
"Yes," was the quiet reply. "But it never seemed so lovely as to-night."
"What's the reason, do you think?" Dick queried.
"Oh, I don't know, except that when I am very happy things always seem
more beautiful than at other times."
As Dick watched her standing there an intense longing came over him to
seize in his those well-shaped hands which were clasped before her. He
forebore, however, and stood silently by her side, looking with her out
over the lake. Speech was unnecessary, for love was speaking to their
hearts in a language which could not be expressed in mere words.