"He is dead," said Brown. "God's mercy meet him!"
"Ah," said old Kalmar, "I breathe freer now that his breath no longer taints the air. My work is done."
"Oh, my father," cried Kalman brokenly, "may God forgive you!"
"Boy," said the old man sternly, "mean you for the death of yon dog? You hang the murderer. He is many times a murderer. This very night he had willed to murder you and your friend. He was condemned to death by a righteous tribunal. He has met his just doom. God is just. I meet Him without fear for this. For my sins, which are many, I trust His mercy."
"My father," said Kalman, "you are right. I believe you. And God is merciful. Christ is merciful."
As he spoke, he leaned over, and wiping from his father's face the tears that fell upon it, he kissed him on the forehead. The old man's breath was growing short. He looked towards Brown. At once Brown came near.
"You are a good man. Your religion is good. It makes men just and kind. Ah, religion is a beautiful thing when it makes men just and kind."
He turned his eyes upon Jack French, who stood looking down sadly upon him.
"You have been friend to my son," he said. "You will guide him still?"
French dropped quickly on his knee, took him by the hand and said, "I will be to him a brother."