“I must know all,” cried Claire, trembling. “I am sure to hear.”
“I can’t tell you,” he said hoarsely.
“Is it not better that it should come from you than from a stranger?”
“It is too horrible, sis,” said the lad.
“Tell me, Morton, at once.”
Her words were cold and strange, and she laid her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed into his eyes.
The boy winced and hung his head as he said slowly:
“They called upon him to surrender, but—”
The lad raised his head, and tossing it back, his eyes flashed as he cried in a different tone:
“I can’t help being proud of him—he was so full of pluck, sis. He wouldn’t surrender, but made a bold leap out of the window, and made a run for it; but that beast Bray gave the order, and they shot him down.”