On the walls of the shack, were guns, hides, and coarse pictures; in one corner, were a case of whiskey bottles, and a pack of cards. The sick man seemed to be a man of about thirty. He greeted his visitors courteously, and at once turned to Esther. "I have asked to see you," he said. "I think I cannot recover. I am not prepared to die. I have attended your meetings since you have held them in the timber. I believe there is something in your religion; I believe in God." His voice was faint. "Is there any hope for me?" he asked, searching her face with his keen black eyes. She shrank from his bold gaze, then answered gently: "There is hope for every one who repents of his sins and turns to Christ." "But," he said, impatiently, "I haven't done so very much to repent of. I haven't committed any crime, don't you know? The world doesn't hold such high ideals of what a fellow ought to be as you do. I am no better nor worse than the rest of men. I came to that conclusion long ago." "Indeed!" She spoke coldly. "Is that all? Then you do not need me." She rose to go. "No, it is not all!" interrupted Jack Harding. "Miss Bright, show him his sin; show him the way of repentance, as you did me." Suddenly the cowboy knelt by the bunk, and poured forth such a heartfelt prayer for the man before him, all were touched. Clifton lay with eyes closed. Esther spoke again. "Mr. Clifton, have you done nothing to repent of? Think. You lured to this country the sixteen-year-old orphan daughter of a clergyman. You promised to marry her, if she would join you here. You placed her to board in a saloon. You refused to marry her! Thank God, the child is safe at last!" There was no mistaking her tone. "Marry _her_?" he repeated, contemptuously. "Marry _her_? I'd as soon marry a cat. I think too much of my family. I wouldn't disgrace them by marrying her, the daughter of a poverty-stricken curate." Then they saw Esther Bright's eyes flash. Her face grew as stern as the granite hills of her native state. She spoke slowly, and each word--as Dr. Mishell afterwards said--seemed to weigh a ton apiece. "Your family?" she said. "Your family?" she repeated with scorn. "Your _family_? This girl is a child of God!" And turning, she left the shack. Jack Harding remained all through the night, talking and praying, at intervals, with Clifton. At dawn, the sick man cried out again and again: "God be merciful to me a sinner!" Then, at last, he said: "Jack, I want to atone for my wrong to Miss Earle as much as I can. I see it all now. Send for a clergyman. I can't live, I know. If Miss Earle becomes my wife, it will remove the stigma, and she will inherit a fortune willed to me. Send for her. Perhaps she will forgive me, before I die."