f the two
horses echoed loudly in the deserted street. Professor Maddox felt a
burst of anger at their abandonment of him, but he supposed the Sheriff
was doing what he had to do.

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.

Chapter 9. _Judgment_

There was snow. It covered the whole world beyond the hospital window.
Its depth was frightening, and the walls seemed no barrier. It was as
much inside as out, filling the room to the ceiling with a fluffy white
that swirled and pulsed in waves before his eyes.

Much later, when the pain softened and his vision cleared, he saw the
only real snow was that piled outside almost to the level of the
first-story windows. Within the room, the outline of familiar objects
showed clearly.

In half-recovered cons