And now a voice was heard among the anxious company to which all listened, for most of them knew it well. It was a woman’s voice, the voice of one who came among the first settlers of the West, drawn there not by political sympathy or communistic fellow-feeling with them, but simply by the thought that here, if anywhere, would be sick souls to heal, sick bodies to tend, and women and little children needing help and care. She was called “Our Sister,” and no one had learnt anything of her family or her history. Of those whom she comforted in sickness or trouble, each one felt assured that she held the creed his mother had taught him as a little child; some would have sworn she belonged to the Church of Rome; the Russians claimed her as theirs; some wild Welsh Home-Rulers were certain that she belonged to the Primitive Methodist Connexion; and a company of rough men from the English iron districts were still more certain that her gentle voice was that of a Quakeress from a secluded Yorkshire valley. It did hot matter. She had escaped, almost alone of the inmost circle of the West, at the time of the burning of the church, by the fact that she was that day nursing a little child who was sick of a fever and whose mother had just died. Since that time evil habits and careless living had led to a great spread of this terrible disease, and the Sister had gone from one sick bed to another bringing medicine and the healing of her presence, and there were those who said that something miraculous lay in the touch of her hands and the whisper of her prayer. It was her voice that spoke in the midst of the people that day. She stood on a little mound among the tangled growth of scented flowers—almost amidst of the great amphitheatre—and in the perfect hush of her hearers and the stillness of the clear windless air every syllable was heard. She said that these troubles had come upon them, as they knew, through their own folly and dissensions; that they might now, if they were indeed united, resist their enemies and oblige them to live peaceably in their own part of the Island, getting their supplies from the northern reef, which was very fruitful, and not crossing the hills; that if, taking warning from the weakness which their disorders had brought, they would set themselves to strengthen some simple form of government, they might even yet live peaceable and happy lives on the Island. If the new company of Dacoits found them thus united and strong they might submit to the same rule as the others; but alas! the moon was near the full. There was but little time for such measures, even if all did their best. But there was one weapon they had all long neglected, the weapon of Prayer, and she entreated them all to kneel down around her. The wild multitude thus taken unawares in a serious mood did not bethink them of scoffing, indeed they loved her, and that was enough.