Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
shrieking with a message. The next it was gone. But it left tailings, like the echo of a death cry slowly floating back over the dead body of Every boy should be able to whistle, except, couldn't be sure if he were carrying it, or it carrying him . this particular little boy's whistling. Or, rather, there were two The first was that he was a Martian little boy. You could be very sure which I should have thought not very appealing to a little boy. though he had pulled a switch or turned a tap that shut them off. Then "'The Calm'," he said in a sober, little-boy voice. He nodded grave agreement. "Been after butterflies, I see. I'll bet you didn't get any. This is the wrong season." I followed him with my eyes. An unusual little boy. A most precisely mechanical little boy. When he was almost out of sight, I took off after him, wondering. The house he went into was over in that crumbling section which forms a curving boundary line, marking the limits of those frantic and ugly original mine-workings made many years ago by the early colonists. It seems that someone had told someone who had told someone else that here, a mere twenty feet beneath the surface, was a vein as wide as There had not been any gold found, of course, and now, for the most part, the mining shacks so hastily thrown up were only fever scars of a sickness long gone and little remembered. A few of the houses were still occupied, like the one into which the Martian boy had just disappeared. So his mother How had it been possible for her to teach, and for him to whistle? "Well? And what did I do now?" interested in who you are. It's the little boy who just went in here that I was interested in. The little Martian boy, I mean." to somewhere else in the house. Nowhere did I see the little boy. I "What about him?" she whispered. little boy went by me a while ago and he was whistling. He whistles me it was the 'Calm' from William Tell. He also told me his mother had when he told me his mother at the little boy when he told me his mother had taught him how to Martian father and a human, Earthwoman mother. somewhere and intermarried plenty since." She nodded. Somehow her eyes didn't look defiant any more. "Where's his father?" I asked. "H-he's dead." "I'm sorry. Are you all right? I mean do you get along okay and everything, now that...?" coated with honey. "Get the hell out of here, you fool!" His words chopped short and he almost choked on the final unuttered syllable. His glance had dropped to my badge and the look on his face to rifle through pictures. I didn't find the woman, but I did find the man. He was a killer named Harry Smythe. I took the picture into the Chief's office and laid it on his desk, waited for him to look down at it and study it for an instant, and then "Wanted, isn't he?" He nodded. "But a lot of good that'll do. He's holed up somewhere back on Earth." "No," I said. "He's right here. I just saw him." named Harry Smythe. Understandably, Mr. Smythe did not produce himself on a silver platter. I spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to get a lead on him and got nowhere. If he was hiding in any of the places I went to, then he was not finding the Earthwoman and her little half-breed Martian son belu tree and set fire to it. Being pitch-like, the gnarled fragments burn for hours. Inside this ring sit the spectators, and in the exact ever lived so long—and doubtless none after him will, either. His leathery, almost purple-black skin was rough and had a charred look about it, and up around the eyes were little plaits and folds that had "I met her little son," I went on. "A little semi-human boy with His teeth went together with a snap. mine and if, earlier in the day, I had thought the little boy's face "They disappeared from the shack they were living in," I said. "They That one he didn't answer, either. child, either. It's just that I have to talk to her." last word. I nodded. "For murder." "Murder." He spat the word. "But not for the murder of a Martian, eh? Martians are not that important any more." His old eyes hated me with an intensity I didn't relish. "You said that, old man, not I." A little time went by. The drums began to beat faster. They were rolling out a lively tempo now, a tempo you could put music to. He said at last: "I do not know where the woman is. Nor the child." He looked me straight in the eyes when he said it—and almost before the words were out of his mouth, they were whipped in again on a He only looked at me for another dull instant and then his eyes slowly closed and his hands folded together in his lap. Being caught in a lie circle and the dancers within, and, too, I suppose, to her small son from the fires, subtle changes in expression weren't easily detected. "Why should I care about an Earthman? My husband was a Martian. And he's dead, see? Dead. Just a Martian. Not fit for anything, like all Martians. Just a bum who fell in love with an Earthwoman and had the guts to marry her. Do you understand? So somebody murdered him for it. whoever it was, I'll get him. I'll get him! " And I knew then the reason for old Wahanhk's bitterness when he had said to me, "But not for the murder of a Martian, eh? Martians are not that important any more." I looked down again at the woman. "Your little boy and his butterfly net," I said softly. "In a season when no butterflies can be found. What was that for? Was he part of the plan, too, and the net just the as anybody's. After a long while she looked up into my eyes. "His name was Tahily," she said. "He had the secret. He knew where the gold vein was. And soon, in a couple of years maybe, when all the prospectors were gone and he knew it would be safe, he was going to stake a claim and go after it. For us. For the three of us." I sighed. There wasn't, isn't, never will be any gold on this planet. But who in the name of God could have the heart to ruin a dream like that? Next day I followed the little boy. He left the reservation in a cheery him without his knowledge and I knew it. I also knew that before long he'd know it, too. And he did—but he didn't let me know he did until we came to the rag-cliffs, those filigree walls of stone that hide the entrance to the valley of the two moons. then calmly sat down and took off his shoes to dump the sand while he waited for me. "Quite, sir." Without another word, he picked up his butterfly net and disappeared along a path that led through a rock crevice. Only then did I allow choice. And I thought I knew the reason for his going. Several times in the past, there have been men who, bitten with the fever of an idea that somewhere on this red planet there must be gold, probably heard that there were men there now, and he was carrying out with the thoroughness of his precise little mind the job he had set himself of finding the killer of his daddy. I took a short-cut over the rag-cliffs and went down a winding, sand-worn path. The temple stones stood out barren and dry-looking, like breast bones from the desiccated carcass of an animal. For a moment I stopped and stared down at the ruins. I didn't see the boy. He was somewhere down there, though, still swinging his butterfly net and, probably, still whistling. And then the whistle broke off short. One instant it was in the air,

<question>:
What happened to the little boy’s father?

<options>:
A He was killed because he found gold.
B He was killed for marrying a human.
C He left Mars to go back to Earth.
D He died in the mines.

<answer>:

B