He recognized that it was foolhardy to be afoot in the deserted town this time of night. Without a single clue to Ken's whereabouts, what could he hope to accomplish? He strode on along the sidewalk in the direction the policeman had disappeared. It was as good a direction as any.
After he had gone a block he stumbled in the darkness. Some soft, resilient object lay across the sidewalk before Billings Drugstore. In anger at the obstacle, Professor Maddox caught himself and moved on. A sound stopped him. A groan of agony came from the object upon which he had stumbled. He turned and bent down and knew it was a human being. Faintly, under the starlight, he glimpsed the dark pool of blood on the sidewalk. He turned the body gently until he could see the face. It was Ken.
He didn't know how long he knelt there inspecting the motionless features of his son. He was aware only of running frantically in the direction of the warehouse. He found Johnson. He clutched the Sheriff's arm. "They've killed him!" he cried. "I found Ken and they've killed him!"
Johnson turned to the nearest officer. "Ride for Dr. Adams. Dudly, get that horse and wagon that's at Whitaker's place. Where did you say you found Ken, Professor?"
"At Billings. Lying on the sidewalk with his head smashed in."
"You others meet us there," he called.
Clumsily, they mounted the Sheriff's horse together again. It seemed to take hours to ride the short distance.
They dismounted and Johnson knelt and touched the boy tenderly.
Then Professor Maddox heard, barely audible, the sound he would remember all his life as the most wonderful sound in the world.
"Dad...." Ken's lips moved with the word. "Dad...." His voice was a plea for help.