But his hand never reached the base of the lamp. The woman beheld two rapidly succeeding and alarming flashes of light, instantly followed by two loud reports, and her husband fell, his face still turned toward her, lighted up by the rays sent slantingly down from the still blazing gas jet. That was all her eyes saw. That was enough for her ears to hear. She ran madly down the stairs, thinly clad as she was, and into the street, through the front door, beyond the gate, and met the wounded man, staggering and weak with loss of blood, clinging to the fence, looking toward his once happy home. Alas! happy home no more! “My God, Ben, what is it?” asked Mrs. Yost, her face turning ghastly white. [Illustration: “_‘Sis., give me a kiss! I’m shot and have to die!’_”] The wounded policeman threw his arms pleadingly forward to her, and said, faintly: “Sis, give me a kiss! I’m shot and I have to die!” She ran very fast, but before it was possible to reach him, he came down upon the pavement, blood spurted from his mouth, and he was, for a few minutes, unconscious. Meantime where was Barney McCarron? Having separated from Yost upon the street, he was going slowly eastward, in the direction of Mr. Lebo’s dwelling, leaving the other officer to care for the lamp near his own house, and had expected him to come up in a moment. But that moment was destined never to arrive. Not hearing Yost’s familiar footsteps, McCarron looked backward over his shoulder, at the very second of time that Mrs. Yost was gazing tenderly in the same direction. He heard the two pistol shots, saw the quick-following flashes, and knew that Yost was hit, as he dropped heavily to the earth. Two dark figures had left the shadow cast by a collection of shade trees near the fence, walked to within a few yards of the policemen, discharged their weapons and started on a brisk run toward the cemetery. McCarron immediately set out in pursuit. Gaining somewhat upon the assassins, when near a clump of bushes, he let fly two shots after them, and the men paused long enough to return the fire, fortunately without effect, and in a second resumed their precipitate retreat. He could merely see, in the brief moment they stood in the lamp-light, that one was a large man and the other somewhat smaller. It was useless to go further alone. Hastening at once to his wounded comrade, he aided some neighbors to convey him into the house that they had so recently left in such joyous mood. There Yost was placed on a lounge and word sent for a surgeon. Dr. Solliday lived not far distant, and was soon on the spot, but, after a brief examination of the injured man, said he could live but a very short time. The bullet had passed in at the right side, between the eighth and ninth ribs, and hemorrhage would be sure to carry him off. There was no human skill that would avail anything. The end must come.