Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. A ball from Wild's pistol passed through his heart, and a volley of musketry poured from the guards lodged several balls in the yet breathing body of his leader. ‘That is settled then. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. The risk I run is nothing to yours. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration.
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