Here was an opportunity, Wade thought, to learn something of interest, so he placed his lips close to the dying lad's ear and asked if he knew John Redmond before he was killed.
"I knew him well," he replied, gasping for breath, "and he was the grandest——"
The head fell limp, the boy breathed his last. Fred Conover was dead.
Immediately the surroundings took on a death-chamber appearance. Wade removed his limb from beneath the dead boy's head and laid him gently upon the cold, damp earth. Beside him was the carcass of the big black horse which fell dead at the same time the boy went down. They were both dead. The pall grew heavier. Wade raised himself, looked at the horse, then into the deathly pale face of the boy, raising his head slowly until he looked into the heavens, then said:
"O God, Thou great God, Thou hast, through thy mercy, saved me from this awful deed."
He let his head drop again.
"That was a dog of a deed for an officer to commit," he said mentally. "It was nothing but cold-blooded murder. Why did he not show himself and make an effort to arrest, rather than do murder in this fashion, the dirty coward!" said Wade, with a wave of his head. "You are free just now, but freedom shall be taken from you for this night's ghastly work, for this foul deed which has taken from earth all that was dear to a good mother and father. If you hang"—Wade shook his fist toward the brush tragically—"the shame and sorrow shall fall upon your own head and heart."
Throwing his coat over the dead form, Wade drew it to one side and departed.