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 ^'•.lia^'^-^iats. 
 
 
Hd 
 
THE 
 
 Hunted Outlaw; 
 
 OB, 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 **Tritth is stranger than Fiction.'''' 
 
 MONTREAL : 
 
 MONTREAL NEWS COMPANY. 
 1889. 
 
V 
 
 4* 
 
 \/ 
 
 
TT 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 \i 
 
 Psychology strips the soul and, having laid it 
 bare, confidently classifies every phase of its 
 mentality. It has the spring of every emotion 
 carefully pigeon-holed ; it puts a mental finger 
 upon every passion ; it maps out the soul into 
 tabulated territories of feeling ; and probes to 
 the earliest stirrings of motive. 
 
 A crime startles the community. The perpe- 
 trator is educated, wise, enjoys the respect of his 
 fellows. His position is high : his home is 
 happy : he has no enemies. 
 
 Psychology is stunned. The deed is incredi- 
 ble. Of all men, this was the last who could be 
 suspected of mental aberration. The mental 
 diagnosis decreed him healthy. He was a man 
 to grace society, do credit to religion, and leave 
 a fair and honored name behind him. 
 
 The tabulation is at fault. 
 
 The soul has its conventional pose when the 
 eyes of the street are upon it. Psychology's 
 plummet is too short to reach those depths 
 where motive has its sudden and startling birth. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 Life begins with the fairest promise, and ends 
 in darkness. 
 
 It is the unexpected that stuns us. 
 
 Heredity, environment and temperament lead 
 us into easy calculations of assured repose and 
 strength, and permanency of mental and moral 
 equilibrium. 
 
 The act of a moment makes sardonic mockery 
 of all our predictions. 
 
 The whole mentality is not computable. 
 
 Look searchingly at happiness, and note with 
 sadness that a tear stains her cheek. 
 
 A dark, sinister thread runs through the web 
 of life. 
 
 \i 
 
 < -I # 
 
w 
 
 \l 
 
 K I * 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joys and destiny obscure, 
 Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile. 
 The short and simple annals of the poor." Gray. 
 
 The Counties of Compton and Beauce, in the 
 Province of Quebec, were first opened up to 
 settlement about fifty years ago. To this spot 
 a small colony of Highlanders from the Skye 
 and Lewis Islands gravitated. They brought 
 with them the Gaelic language, a simple but 
 austere religion, habits of frugality and method, 
 and aggressive health. That generation is gone, 
 or almost gone, but the essential characteristics 
 of the race have been preserved in their children. 
 The latter are generous and hospitable to a fault. 
 Within a few miles of the American frontier, the 
 forces of modern life have not reached them. 
 Shut in by immense stretches of the dark and 
 gloomy " forest primeval," they live drowsily in 
 a little world where passions are lethargic, inno- 
 cence open-eyed, and vice almost unknown. 
 Science has not upset their belief in Jehovah. 
 God is real, and somewhat stern, and the minis- 
 ter is his servant, to be heard with respect. 
 
■f-W" 
 
 6 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 V 
 
 despite the appalling length of his sermons. 
 Sincerely pious, the people mix their religion 
 with a little whiskey, and the blend appears to 
 give satisfaction. The farmers gather at the 
 village inn in the evening, and over a " drap o' 
 Scotch" discuss the past. As the stimulant 
 works, generous sentiments are awakened in the 
 breast ; and the melting songs of Robbie Burns 
 — roughly rendered, it may be — make the eye 
 glisten. This is conviviality; but it has no rela- 
 tion to drunkenness. Every household has its 
 family altar ; and every night, before retiring to 
 rest, the family circle gather round the father or 
 the husband, who devoutly commends them to 
 the keeping of God. 
 
 The common school is a log hut, built by the 
 wayside, and the "schoolmarm" is not a pre- 
 tentious person. But what the school cannot 
 supply, a long line of intelligent, independent 
 ancestors have supplied, robust, common sense 
 and sagacity. 
 
 Something of the gloom and sternness of the 
 forest, something of the sadness which is a con- 
 scious presence, is in their faces. Their humor 
 has a certain savor of grimness. For the rest, it 
 may be said that they are poor, and that they 
 make little effort to be anything else. They do 
 
 
 
 't 
 
 * 
 
 f 
 
t 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY., 7 
 
 a little farming and a little lumbering. They 
 get food and clothing, they ^e attached to their 
 homesteads, and the world with all its tempting 
 possibilities passes them by. The young people 
 seek the States, but even they return, and end 
 their days in the old home. They marry, and 
 get farms, and life moves with even step, the 
 alternating seasons, with their possibilities, prob- 
 ably forming their deepest absorptions. It re- 
 mains only to be said that, passionately attached 
 to the customs, the habits of thought of their 
 forefathers, the Highlanders of the Lake Megan- 
 tic region are intensely clannish. Splendidly 
 generous, they would suffer death rather than 
 betray the man who had eaten of their salt. 
 Eminently law-abiding, they would not stretch 
 out a hand to deprive of freedom one who hacj 
 thrown himsejf upon their mercy. 
 
 t* 1 •# 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 DONALD MORRISON APPEARS ON THE SCENE, 
 
 Life, could we only be well assured of it, is at 
 the best when it is simple. The woods of Lake 
 
8 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 "111 
 
 if 
 
 Megantic in the summer cast a spell upon the 
 spirit. They are calm and serene, and just a 
 littJe sad. They invite to rest, and their calm 
 strength and deep silence are a powerful rebuke 
 to passion. 
 
 Amongst the deep woods of Marsden, Donald 
 Morrison spent his young years. His parents 
 were in fairly comfortable circumstances, as the 
 term is understood in Compton. Donald was a 
 fair-haired boy, whose white forehead his mother 
 had often kissed in pride as she prepared him, 
 with shining morning face, for the village school. 
 Donald was the pride of the village. Strong for 
 his years and self-assertive, the boys feared him. 
 Handsome and fearless, and proud and master- 
 ful, his little girl school-mates adored him. They 
 adored him all the more that he thought it be- 
 neath his boyish dignity to pay them attention. 
 This is true to all experience. Donald was pas- 
 sionate. He could not brook interference. He 
 even thus early, when he was learning his tablets 
 at the village school, developed those traits, the 
 exercise of which, in later life, was to make his 
 name known throughout the breadth of the land. 
 Generous and kind-hearted to a degree, his 
 impatience often hurried him into actions which 
 grieved his parents. He was generally in hot 
 
 1 
 
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 « • 
 
 1 
 
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 1 
 
 •# 
 
 t i 
 
 % • 
 
 1 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 9 
 
 water at school. He fought, and he generally 
 won, but his cause was not always right. He was 
 supple, and he excelled in the village games. 
 
 u CHAPTER HI. 
 
 A LITTLE GIRL WITH YELLOW HAIR. 
 
 , Minnie Duncan went to the same school with 
 
 Donald. She was a shy little thing with big 
 brown eyes, which looked at you wistfully, and 
 a mass of yellow hair, which the sun in the sum- 
 mer mornings loved to burnish. Minnie at the 
 age of ten felt drawn to Donald, as timid women 
 generally feel drawn toward masterful men, 
 ignoring the steadier love of gentler natures. 
 Donald had from the start constituted himself 
 her protector in a lordly way. He had once 
 resented a belittling remark which a school- 
 mate had used towards her, by soundly thrash- 
 ing the urchin who uttered it. Minnie pitied 
 the lad, but she secretly adored Donald. He 
 was her hero. Donald was good enough to pat- 
 ronize her. Minnie was too humble to resent 
 this attitude. Was he not handsome and strong, 
 with fearless blue eyes ; were not all her little 
 
10 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 girl companions jealous of her ? Did he not go 
 to and come from school with her and carry her 
 book^ ? Above all, had he not done battle in 
 her behalf? 
 
 Minnie Duncan was the only daughter of John 
 and Mary Duncan, who lived close to the Mor- 
 risons', upon a comfortable farm. She was 
 dearly loved, and she returned the affection 
 bestowed upon her with the beautiful abandon 
 of that epoch when the tide of innocent trust 
 and love is at the full. They had never ex- 
 pressed their hopes in relation to her future ; 
 but the wish of their hearts was that she might 
 grow into a modest. God-fearing woman, find a 
 good farmer husband, and live and die in the 
 village. 
 
 «* 
 
 \t 
 
 i t 
 
 CHAPTER IV, 
 
 "MINNIE, MINNIE," SHE SAID, "I MUST GUARI> 
 
 MY SECRET." 
 
 Donald Morrison was now twenty -three. 
 The promise of his boyhood had been realized. 
 He was well made, with sinews like steel. He 
 had a blonde moustache, clustering hair^ a well 
 
 .7- 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 11 
 
 ^ 
 
 J t 
 
 i 
 
 shaped mouth, firm chin. His blue eyes had 
 a proud, fearless look. The schoolmarm had 
 taught Donald the three " R 's " ; he had read a 
 little when he could spare the money for books ; 
 and at the period we are now dealing with he 
 was looked up to by all in the village as a person 
 of superior knowledge. His youth and young 
 manhood had been spent working upon his 
 father's farm. Latterly he had been wofking 
 upon land which his father had given him, in 
 the hope that he would marry and settle down. 
 He had become restless. The village was be- 
 ginning to look small, and he asked himself 
 with wonderment how he had been content in it 
 so long. The work was hard and thankless. 
 Was this life ? Was there nothing beyond this ? 
 Was there not not a great world outside the 
 forest ? What was this ? Was it not stagna- 
 tion ? The woods — yes, the woods were beauti- 
 ful, but why was it they made him sad ? Why 
 was it that when the sun set against the back- 
 ground of the purple line of trees, he felt a lump 
 in his throat ? Why, when he walked along the 
 roads in the summer twilight, did the sweet 
 silence oppress him ? He could not tell. He 
 knew that he wanted away. He longed to be 
 in the v/orld of real men and women, where joy 
 
12 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 and sufifering, and the extremest force of passion 
 had active play. 
 
 Minnie was now a schoolmarm — neat and 
 simple, and sweet. Her figure was slender, and 
 her hair a deep gold, parted simply in the 
 centre, brought over the temples in crisp waves, 
 and wound into a single coil behind. Her head 
 was small and gracefully poised ; her teeth as 
 white' as milk, because they had never experi- 
 enced the destructive effects of confectionery ; 
 her cheeks, two roses in their first fresh bloom, 
 because she had been reared upon simple food ; 
 her figure, slight, supple and well proportioned 
 She was eighteen. Her beautiful brown eyes 
 wore a sweetly serious look. She ad thought 
 as a woman. She was pious, but somehow when 
 she wandered through the woods, and noted 
 how the wild flowers smiled upon her, and 
 listened to the birds as they shook their very 
 throats for joy, she could only think of the love, 
 not the anger of God. God was good. His 
 purpose was loving. How warm and beautiful 
 and sweet was the sun ! The sky was blue, and 
 was there not away beyond the blue a place 
 where the tears that stained the cheek down 
 here Id be all wiped away ? Sorrow ! Oh, 
 yes, there was sorrow here, and somehow, the 
 
 . 
 
'■ 
 
 A . 
 
 • • 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 13 
 
 dearest things we yearned for were denied us. 
 There were heavy burdens to bear, and life's 
 contrasts were agonizing, and faith staggered a 
 little ; but when Minnie went to the woods with 
 these thoughts, and looked into the timid eye 
 of the violet, she said to herself softly, " God is 
 love." 
 
 A simple creature, you see, and not at all 
 clever. I doubt if she had ever heard of Herbert 
 Spencer, much less read his works. If you had 
 told that she had been evolved from a jelly-fish, 
 her brown eyes would only have looked at you 
 wonderingly. You would have conveyed nothing 
 to her. 
 
 I must tell you that Minnie was romantic. 
 The woods had bred in her the spirit of poetry. 
 She loved during the holidays to go to the woods 
 with a book, and, seating herself at the foot of a 
 tree, give herself up to dreams — of happy, inno- 
 cent love, and of calm life, without cloud, blessed 
 by the smile of heaven. 
 
 • ••••••• 
 
 Love is a sudden, shy flame. Love is a blush 
 which mounts to the cheek, and then leaves it 
 pale. Love is the trembling pressure of hands 
 which, for a delicious moment, meet by stealth. 
 Love is sometimes the deep drawn sigh, the 
 
14 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 languor that steeps the senses, the sudden 
 trembling to which no name can be given. 
 Minnie was in love. The hero of her childhood 
 the hero of her womanhood. She loved 
 
 was 
 
 Donald modestly but passionately ; but she 
 constantly said to herself in terror, "Oh, Minnie, 
 Minnie, you must take care ; guard your secret ; 
 never betray yourself" 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 love's young dream. 
 
 "Oh, happy love, where love like this is found ! 
 Oh, heart'felt raptures, bliss beyond compare ! 
 I've paced this weary mortal round, 
 And sage experience bids me this declare, 
 If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare. 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 
 In other's arms breathe out the tender tale. 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." 
 
 Donald and Minnie had grown up together 
 They had shared in the social life of the village. 
 They had been to little parties together. They 
 had gone to the same church, sat in the same 
 pew, sang the psalms from the same book. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 16 
 
 1' 
 1 
 
 They had walked out together in the summer 
 evenings, and both had felt the influence of the 
 white moonh'ght which steeped the trees along 
 the Marsden road. They had, so to say, appro- 
 priated each other, and yet there had been no 
 word of love between them. They had spoken 
 freely to each other ; their hands had touched, 
 and both had thrilled at the contact, and yet 
 they were only friends ! The village had settled 
 it that they were lovers and that they would be 
 married, and felt satisfied with its own decision, 
 because both were popular. 
 
 It was a summer afternoon, and they were in 
 the woods together. Minnie had a basket for 
 wild strawberries. None had been gathered. 
 They were seated at the trunk of a tree. 
 Donald had told her that he thought of leaving 
 the country, and she felt stunned. Her heart 
 stopped. She became as pale as death. 
 
 " Yes, Minnie," he said, " I am tired of this 
 life. I want away. I want to push my fortune. 
 What is there here for me? What future is 
 there for me ? I want to go to the States. I 
 can get along there. This life is too dull and 
 narrow, and all the young fellows have left." 
 
 "Perhaps I feel too that it is a little dull, 
 
16 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Donald," Minnie said, " but not being a man, I 
 suppose desires like yours would seem improper- 
 When you go," and her voice trembled a little, 
 " I will feel the dulness all the more keenly." 
 
 "And do you think it will not cost me an 
 effort to sever our friendship?" Donald said 
 with emotion ; "we have been playmates in 
 childhood and friends in riper years. I have 
 been so accustomed to you that to leave you will 
 seem like moving into darkness out of sunlight. 
 Minnie," he went on, taking her hand, and 
 speaking with fervor, " can we only be friends ? 
 We say that we are friends ; but in my heart I 
 have always loved you. When I began to love 
 you I know not. I feel now that I cannot leave 
 without telling you. Yes, Minnie, I love you, 
 and you only ; and it was the hope of bettering 
 my prospects only to ask you to share them, 
 that induced me to think of leaving. But I can- 
 not leave without letting you know what I feel. 
 Just be frank with me, and tell me, do you 
 return my love ? I cannot see your face. What ! 
 tears ! Minnie, Minnie, my darling, you do care 
 a little for me ! " 
 
 She could not look at him, for tears blinded 
 her, but she said, simply, " Oh, Donald, I have 
 loved you since childhood." 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 17 
 
 " My own dear Minnie ! " He caught her to 
 his breast, and kissed her sweet mouth, her 
 cheek, her hands and hair. He took off her 
 summer hat, and smoothed her golden tresses ; 
 he pressed his lips to her white forehead, and 
 called her his darling, his sweet Minnie. 
 
 Minnie lay in his arms sobbing, and trembling 
 violently. The restraint she had imposed on 
 herself was now broken down, and she gave way 
 to the natural feelings of her heart. She had 
 received the first kisses of love. She was thrilled 
 with delight and vague alarm. 
 
 " Don't tremble, darling," he said, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 '■' Oh, Donald, I can't help it. What is this 
 feeling ? What does it mean ? " 
 
 It was unconscious passion ! 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " SUCH PARTINGS AS CRUSH THE LIFE OUT OF 
 
 YOUNG HEARTS." 
 
 Donald had made up his mind to go West. 
 In vain his parents dissuaded him. 
 Young love is hopeful, and Donald had pic- 
 
18 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 tured reunion in such attractive guise, that 
 Minnie was half reconciled to his departure. 
 
 But the parting was sad. 
 
 Donald had spent the last evening at Minnie's 
 parents. 
 
 The clock has no sympathy with lovers. It 
 struck the hours remorselessly. The parting 
 moment had come. Minnie accompanied her 
 lover to the door. He took her in his arms. 
 He kissed her again and again. He said hopeful 
 things, and he kissed away her tears. He stroked 
 her hair, and drew her head upon his breast. 
 They renewed their vows of love. 
 
 Minnie said, through her sobs, " God bless 
 you, Donald." 
 
 He tore himself away ! 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 " TO THE WEST, TO THE WEST, THE LAND OF 
 
 THE FREE." 
 
 " Bully for Donald ! " 
 
 " Thar ain't no flies on him, boys, is thar ? '* 
 
 " Warn't it neat ? " 
 
 " Knocked him out in one round, too ! '* 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 19 
 
 The scene was a saloon in Montana. Six 
 men were gathered round a table playing poker. 
 The light was dim, the liquor was villainous, 
 and the air was dense with tobacco smoke. It 
 was a cowboy party, and one of the cowboys 
 was Donald Morrison. He had adopted the 
 free life of the Western prairies. He had learned 
 to ride with the grace and shoot with the deadly 
 skill of an Indian. 
 
 Twas a rough life, and he knew it. He mixed 
 but little with the " Boys," but the latter re- 
 spected him for his manly qualities. He was 
 utterly without fear. Courage is better than 
 gold on the plains of Montana. He took to the 
 life, partly because it was wild and adventurous, 
 partly because he found that he could save 
 money at it. The image of Minnie never grew 
 dim in his heart, and he looked forward to a 
 modest little home in his native village, graced 
 and sweetened by the presence of a true woman. 
 
 On this night he had yielded to the persuasion 
 of a few of the boys, and went with them to 
 " Shorty's " saloon for a game of " keerds." 
 
 " Shorty " had a pretty daughter, who was as 
 much out of place amid her coarse surroundings 
 as violets in a coal mine. 
 
 She was quite honest, and she served her 
 
20 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 father's customers with modesty. Kitty — that 
 was her name — secretly admired the handsome 
 Donald, who had always treated her with re- 
 spect upon the infrequent occasions of his visits. 
 
 On this night, while the party were at cards, 
 "Wild Dick" Minton entered. He was a des- 
 perado, and it was said that he had killed at 
 least two men in his time. 
 
 " Wild Dick " swaggered in, roughly greeted 
 the party, called for drink, and sat down in front 
 of a small table close to the card players. 
 
 Kitty served him with the drink. 
 
 " Well, Kitty," he said with coarse gallantry, 
 " looking sort o' purty to-night, eh ? Say, gimme 
 a kiss, won't yer ? " 
 
 Kitty blushed crimson with anger, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 "Wild Dick" got up and took her chin in his 
 hand. 
 
 "How dare you?" she said, stamping her foot 
 with indignation. 
 
 "My! how hoighty-toighty we are! Well, if 
 yer won't give a feller a kiss, I must take it," 
 and Dick put his arm round her waist, and drew 
 her towards him. 
 
 At that mompnt Donald, who had been watch- 
 ing his behaviour with increasing disgust and 
 
 4^ 
 
 mlm 
 
 m " 
 
 A 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 21 
 
 m0 
 
 anger, leaped up, caught him by the throat with 
 his left hand, and exclaimed : " Let her go, you 
 scoundrel, or I'll thrash the life out of you." 
 
 Without a word Dick whipped out his shooter 
 from his hip pocket ; Donald's companions leaped 
 from the table, concluding at once there was 
 going to be blood, while " Old Shorty " ducked 
 behind the counter in terror. 
 
 Kitty stood rooted to the spot, expecting to 
 see her defender fall at her feet with a bullet 
 through his brain or heart. 
 
 Donald, the moment that Dick pulled out the 
 pistol, grasped the arm that held it as with a 
 vice with his right hand, and, letting go his hold 
 of his throat, with his left he wrenched the 
 weapon from him. 
 
 Then he dealt him a straight blow in the face 
 that felled him like an ox. 
 
 Dick rose to his feet with murder in his eyes. 
 
 With a cry of rage he rushed upon Donald. 
 The latter had learned to box as well as shoot. 
 He was quite calm, though very pale. He- 
 waited for the attack, and then, judging his 
 opportunity, let out his left with terrific force. 
 The blow struck Dick behind the ear, and he fell 
 to the ground with a heavy thud. 
 
 He rose to his feet, muttered something about 
 his time coming, and slunk out. 
 
wmm 
 
 T 
 
 22 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Donald's victory over " Wild Dick," who was 
 regarded as a bully, was hailed in the exclama- 
 tions which head this chapter. 
 
 Donald never provoked a quarrel, but, once 
 engaged, he generr My came out victorious. 
 
 His prowess soon became bruited abroad, and 
 he had the goodwill of all the wild fellows of 
 that wild region. 
 
 ■r» 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 HARD TIMES AT HOME. 
 
 Life is hard in the Megantic district. A very 
 small portion of the land is susceptible of culti- 
 vation. The crops are meagre, and when the 
 family is provided for, there is very little left to 
 sell off the farm. Money is scarce. There is 
 very little to be made in lumber. 
 
 When Donald went away there was a debt 
 against his farm. He sent from time to time 
 what he could spare to wipe it off. But the 
 times were bad. Donald's father got deeper 
 into debt. The outlook was not encouraging. 
 
 " I wish Donald would come home," the old 
 
 ■t 
 

 #» 
 
 ■M*- 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 23 
 
 man frequently muttered. " I wish he would," 
 his mother would say, and then she would cry 
 softly to herself. 
 
 Poverty is always unlovely. 
 
 Too often it is crime ! 
 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ** Still o*er these scenes my memory wakes, 
 And fondly broods with miser care." 
 
 " Dearest Donald, — I received your kind 
 letter. That you are doing well, and saving 
 money for the purpose you speak of, it is plea- 
 sant to hear. That you still love me is what is 
 dearest to my heart. I may confess in this letter 
 what I could scarcely ever say in your presence, 
 that I think of you always. All our old walks 
 are eloquent of the calm and happy past. When 
 I sit beneath the tree where I first learned that 
 you cared for me, my thoughts go back, and I 
 can almost hear the tones of your voice. I feel 
 lonely sometimes. Your letters are a great 
 solace. If I feel a little sad I go to my 
 room, and unburden my heart to Him who is 
 not indifferent even to the sparrow's fall. Some 
 
^4 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 •ir^ 
 
 times the woods seem mournful, and when the 
 wind, in these autumn evenings, wails through 
 the pines, I don't know how it is, but I feel tears 
 in my eyes. 
 
 "And now, Donald, what I am going to tell 
 you will surprise you. We are going away to 
 Springfield, in Massachusetts. A little property 
 has been left father there, and he is going to live 
 upon it. Location does not affect feeling. My 
 heart is yours wherever I may be. 
 
 " God bless you, dearest. 
 
 " Your own 
 
 " Minnie." 
 
 Donald read this letter thoughtfully. 
 
 " My father going to the bad, and Minnie 
 going away," he muttered. 
 
 He rose from his seat, and walked the narrow 
 room in which he lodged. 
 
 " I will go home," he said. 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, THERE'S NO PLACE 
 
 LIKE HOME. 
 
 » 
 
 Donald Morrison is back to the simple life of 
 Marsden again. Five years had changed him 
 
\ 
 
 «H» THE OAKADIAK rob ROY. 26 
 
 enormously. His figure had always promise of 
 athletic suppleness. It was now splendidly com- 
 pact. He left the type of the conventional 
 farmer. He returned the picturesque embodi- 
 ment of the far West. Perhaps, in his long locks, 
 wida sombrero, undressed leggings, and prodigal 
 display of shooting irons, there may have been a 
 theatrical suggestion of Bufifalo Bill. 
 
 The village folk accepted him with intense 
 admiration. Here was something new to study. 
 Had Donald not been to the great and wonderful 
 Far West, so much the more fascinating because 
 nobody knew anything about it ? Had he not 
 shot the buffalo roaming the plains ? Had he 
 not mingled in that wild life which, without moral 
 lamp-posts, allures all the more because of a 
 certain flavoring spice of deviltry ? Every farm- 
 er's son in Marsden, Gould, Stornaway, and 
 Lake Megantic, envied Donald that easy swag- 
 gering air, that frank, perhaps defiant outlook, 
 which the girls secretly adored. Is it the village 
 maiden alone who confesses to a secret charm 
 in dare-devilism ? Let the social life of every 
 garrison city answer. The delicately nurtured 
 lady's heart throbs beneath lace and silk, and 
 that of the village girl beneath cotton, but the 
 character of the emotion is the same. 
 
 1 
 
26 
 
 DONALD MORRISON. 
 
 
 " Oh, Donald, Donald, my dear son ! " 
 
 Withered arms were round his neck, and loving 
 lips pressed his cheek. 
 
 Donald's home-coming had been a surprise. 
 He had sent no word to his parents. His mother 
 was sitting in the kitchen^ when he entered un- 
 announced. For a moment she did not know 
 him, but a mother's love is seldom at fault. A 
 second glance was enough. It passed over 
 Donald the bronzed and weather-beaten man, 
 and reached to Donald the curly-headed lad, 
 whose sunny locks she had brushed softly when 
 preparing him for school. 
 
 " Yes, mother," said Donald, tenderly return- 
 ing her greeting, " I am back again. I intend 
 to settle down. Father's letter showed me that 
 things were not going too well, and I thought I 
 would come home and help to straighten them 
 out a bit. I have had my fill of wandering, 
 and now I think I would like to live quietly in 
 the old place where I was born, among the 
 friends and the scenes which are endeared to me 
 by past associations." 
 
 " Oh, I wish you would, DonaM^ the old 
 mother replied, with moist eyes. "Your father 
 wants you home, and I want you home. We're 
 
 ■ r 
 
 y» 
 
BSE 
 
 m^ 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 27 
 
 M^ 
 
 now getting old and feeble. We won't be long 
 here. Remain with us to the close." 
 
 " Well, Donald, my man, welcome back," a 
 hearty voice cried. 
 
 Upon looking round Donald saw his father, 
 who had been out in the fields, and just came in 
 as the mother was speaking. The two men 
 cordially shook hands. 
 
 " My, how changed you are," the father said. 
 " I would hardly know you. From the tone of 
 your letters, you have had an adventurous life 
 in the West." 
 
 " Well," said Donald, " at first the novelty 
 attracted. I was free. There was no standard 
 of moral attainment constantly thrust in your 
 face, and that was an enormous relief to me. 
 You know how I often rebelled against the 
 strictness of life here. But even license fatigues ; 
 the new becomes the old ; and where there is no 
 standard there is but feeble achievement. I 
 became a cowboy because that phase of life 
 offered at a moment when employment was a 
 necessity. I remained at it because I could 
 make money. But I never meant this should 
 be permanent. The wild life became dull to me, 
 and I soon longed for the quiet scenes from 
 which I had been so glad to escape. I learned 
 
28 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 to shoot and ride, and picked up a few things 
 which may be useful to me here. And now, 
 father, let us discuss your affairs." 
 
 iii:^' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE." 
 
 It was Saturday night in the village of Lake 
 Megantic. The work of the week is done. 
 There is a brief respite from labor which, severe 
 and unremitting, dulls the mind and chokes the 
 fountains of geniality and wit. The young men, 
 — indeed, there was a sprinkling of grey hairs, 
 too, — had gathered in the one hotel the village 
 boasts of There was a group in the little room 
 off the bar, and another group in the bar-room 
 itself It Vas well for the host that the palates 
 of his guests had not been corrupted by the 
 " mixed drinks " of the cities. He steadily dis- 
 pensed one article, — that was whiskey. It was 
 quite superfluous to ask your neighbor what he 
 would take. The whiskey was going round, 
 and the lads were a little flushed. At the head 
 of the room off the bar a piper was skirling with 
 
 t 
 
1^ 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 29 
 
 O 
 
 great energy, while in the centre of the room a 
 strapping young fellow was keeping time to the 
 music. 
 
 The piper paused, and drew a long breath. 
 The dancer resumed his seat. 
 
 " I say, boys," said one of the party, " have 
 you seen Donald Morrison since he came home?" 
 
 Oh, yes, they had all seen him. 
 
 " What do you think of him?" the first speaker 
 asked. 
 
 "Well," said a second speaker, "I think he is 
 greatly changed. He's too free with his pistols. 
 He seems to have taken to the habits of the 
 West. I don't think we want them in Megantic." 
 
 " I saw him riding down the road to-day," said 
 a third speaker, " and he was using the cowboy 
 stirrups and saddle Talking of his pistols, he's 
 the most surprising shot I ever saw. I saw him 
 the other day in the village snuffing a candle, 
 and cutting a fine cord at twenty paces." 
 
 " He'd be an ugly customer in a row," re- 
 marked a fourth speaker. 
 
 " No doubt," said the first young fellow, " but 
 Donald never was a disorderly fellow, and I 
 think his pistol shooting and defiant air are a bit 
 of harmless bravado." 
 
 The previous speaker appeared to be a bit of 
 
30 
 
 DONALD ^MORRISON, 
 
 a pessimist. " I only hope," he said, significantly, 
 as it seemed, " that nothing will come of this 
 carrying arms, and riding up and down the 
 country like a page of Fenimore Cooper." 
 
 " By the way," interposed the first speaker, 
 " did you hear that Donald and his father had 
 a dispute about the money' which Donald ad- 
 vanced when he was away, and that legal 
 proceedings are threatened ? " 
 
 No, none of the party had heard about it, but 
 the pessimist remarked : " I hope there won't be 
 any trouble. Donald, I think, is a man with 
 decent instincts, but passion could carry him to 
 great lengths. Once aroused, he might prove a 
 dangerous enemy." 
 
 The young man said these words earnestly 
 enough, no doubt. He had no idea he was 
 uttering a prophecy. 
 
 How surprised we are sometimes to find that 
 our commonplaces have been verified by fate, 
 with all the added emphasis of tragedy ! 
 
 ^^ ^f^ 
 
7i 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 31 
 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MODEST, SIMPLE, SWEET. 
 
 Minnie is in her new home in Springfield. 
 
 Springfield is a village set at the base of a 
 scries of hills, which it is an article of faith to 
 call mountains. They are not on the map, but 
 that matters little. We ought to be thankful 
 that the dulness of the guide-book makers and 
 topographists has still left us here and there 
 serene bits of nature. 
 
 Springfield had a church, and a school, and a 
 post office, and a tavern. It was a scattered sort 
 of place, and a week of it would have proved 
 the death of a city lady, accustomed to life only 
 as it glows with color, or sparkles with the cham- 
 pagne of passion. Minnie had never seen a 
 city. She was content that her days should be 
 spent close to the calm heart of nature. She 
 felt the parting with old friends at Lake Megantic 
 keenly. She murmured "farewell" to the woods 
 in accents choked with tears. All the associa- 
 tions of childhood, and the more vivid and 
 precious associations of her early womanhood, 
 crowded upon her that last day. Donald occu- 
 pied the chief place in her thoughts. He was 
 
32 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 f 
 
 i 
 
 
 -*lS*i; 
 
 far away. Should they ever meet again ? 
 Should their sweet companionships ever be 
 renewed ? 
 
 The cares of her new home won her back to 
 content. 
 
 Minnie's mother was feeble, and required 
 careful nursing. Her own early life had been 
 darkened by hardships. When a young girl she 
 had often gone supperless to bed. Her bare 
 feet and legs were bitten by the cutting winds of 
 winter. Her people had belonged to the North 
 of Ireland. She herself was born in the south 
 of Antrim. Her mother was early left a widow, 
 without means of support. She worked in the 
 fields for fourpence a day, from six to six, and 
 out of this she had to pay a shilling a week for 
 rent, and buy food and clothing for herself and 
 orphan child. Her employer was a Christian, 
 and deeply interested in the social and spiritual 
 welfare of the heathen ! When the outdoor 
 work failed in the winter, she wound cotton upon 
 the old-fashioned spinning-wheel, and Minnie's 
 mother often hung upon the revolving spool 
 with a fearful interest. Mother and child were 
 often hungry. The finish of the cotton at a 
 certain hour of the. day meant a small pittance 
 wherewith bread could be bought. A minute 
 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 83 
 
 after the office hour, and to the pleading request 
 that the goods be taken and the wages given, a 
 brutal " No " would be returned, and the door 
 slammed in the face of the applicant. This was 
 frequently the experience of the poor woman 
 and her child. 
 
 At least death is merciful. It said to the 
 widow — "Come, end the struggle. Close your 
 eyes, and I will put you to sleep." 
 
 Minnie's mother was adopted by a lady who 
 subsequently took up her residence in Scotland, 
 and a modest ray of sunshine thence continued 
 to rest upon her life : but her early sufferings 
 had left their mark. 
 
 Of her mother's life Minnie knew but little. 
 What she perceived was that she needed all her 
 love and care, and these she offered in abundant 
 measure. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A LETTER FROM DONALD. 
 
 Minnie is in her little bedroom, and she is 
 looking, with a shy surprise mixed with just a 
 little guilt (which is sometimes so delicious), at 
 
34 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 ■ft" 
 
 
 »;>■ 
 H')',' 
 
 her blushes in the glass. In her hand was a 
 letter. That letter was from Donald. It had 
 been handed to her at the breakfast table, and 
 she had hastened to her room to have the luxury 
 of secret perusal. With love there are only two 
 beings in the entire universe. You say love is 
 selfish. You are mistaken. Love loves secrecy. 
 A blabbing tongue, the common look of day, 
 kills love. The monopoly that love claims is 
 the law of its being. If I transcribed Donald's 
 letter you would say it was a very common- 
 place production. But Minnie kissed it twice, 
 and put it softly in her bosom. The letter 
 announced that he was home again, and that he 
 would shortly pay her a visit. It just hinted 
 that things were not going on well at home ; 
 but Minnie's sanguine temperament found no 
 sinister suggestion in the words. 
 
 The letter had made her happy. She put on 
 her hat, and, taking the path at the back of the 
 house that joined that which led to the moun- 
 tain, she was soon climbing to the latter's 
 summit. 
 
 It was a beautiful spring day. The sunlight 
 seemed new, and young, and very tender. The 
 green of the trees was of that vivid hue which 
 expresses hope to the young, and sadness to the 
 
 If 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 36 
 
 aged. To the former it means a coming depth 
 and maturity of joy ; to the latter, the fresh, 
 eager days of the past — bright, indeed, but 
 mournful in their brevity. 
 
 Minnie sat down upon a rustic seat, and gave 
 herself up to one of those delicious day-dreams 
 which lure the spirit as the mirage lures the 
 traveller. 
 
 She began to sing softly to herself — 
 
 ** Thou'lt break my heart thou warbling bird, 
 That wantons through the flowering thorn ; 
 Thou 'minds me o' departed joys, 
 Departed — never to return." 
 
 Why those lines were suggested, and why her 
 voice should falter in sadness, and why tears 
 should spring to her eyes, she did not know. 
 To some spirits the calm beauty of nature, and 
 the warm air that breathes in balm and heal- 
 ing, express the deepest pathos. The contrast 
 between the passion and suffering of life, and 
 the calm assurance of unruffled joy which nature 
 suggests, pierces the heart with an exquisite 
 sadness. 
 
 Poor Minnie, she sang the lines of " Bonnie 
 Doon," all unconscious that they would ever 
 have any relation to her experience. 
 
36 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 
 But Minnie would bear her grief, and say, 
 " God is love." 
 
 She had never subscribed to a creed, and 
 although Mill and Huxley were strangers to 
 her, her whole nature protested against any sys- 
 tem of which violence was one of the factors. 
 
 Minnie was simply good. When she encoun- 
 tered suffering, and found that it was too great 
 for human relief, she would whisper to her heart, 
 " By and by." What by and by meant explained 
 all to Minnie. 
 
 We spend years upon the study of character, 
 and the cardinal features often escape us. A 
 dog has but to glance once into a human face. 
 He comprehends goodness in a moment. The 
 ownerless dogs of the village analyzed Minnie's 
 nature, and found it satisfactory. They beamed 
 upon her with looks of wistful love. She had 
 them in the spring and summer for her daily 
 escort to the mountain. 
 
 That was a testimonial of fine ethical value. 
 
 " Why, what am I dreaming about ? " Minnie 
 exclaimed, after she had sat for about an hour. 
 " Why are my eyes wet ? Why do I feel a 
 sadness which I cannot define ? Am I not 
 happy ? Isn't Donald coming to see me ? Will 
 we not be together again ? Isn't the sun bright 
 
 if. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 37 
 
 and warm, and our little home cheerful and 
 happy? Fancies, dreams, and forebodings, 
 away with you. I must run home and help 
 mother to make that salad for dinner." 
 
 The world wants not so much learned, as 
 simple, modest, reverent women, to sweeten and 
 redeem it ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE TROUBLE. 
 
 We will not afflict the reader with all the 
 complexities of a dispute which for months 
 exercised the Press, the people, and the Govern- 
 ment of Lower Canada ; which led to a terrible 
 tragedy, and the invasion of a quiet country by 
 an armed force which exercised powers of 
 domiciliary visitation and arrest resorted to only 
 under proclamation of martial law ; and which, 
 setting a price upon a man's head, resulted in 
 an outlawry as romantic and adventurous as 
 that of Sir Walter Scott's Rob Roy. 
 
 Certain large features, necessary to the develop- 
 ment of the story, will be recapitulated. 
 
 Poverty has few alleviations. Where it exists 
 
38 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 A,; 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 ^- 
 
 at all it takes a malevolent delight in making its 
 aspect as hideous as possible. Donald's father 
 had got into difficulties. Donald had helped 
 him more than once when he was in the West, 
 and when he came home he advanced him a 
 considerable sum. A time came when Donald 
 wanted his money back. His father was unable 
 to give it to him. There was a dispute between 
 them. Recourse was had to a money-lender in 
 Lake Megantic. 
 
 The latter advanced a certain sum of money 
 upon a note. In the transactions which occurred 
 between Donald and the money-lender the for- 
 mer alleged over-reaching. 
 
 An appeal was made to the law. 
 
 In the Province of Quebec the law moves 
 slowly. Its feet are shod with the heavy irons 
 of circumlocution. It is very solemn, but its 
 pomp is antiquated. It undertakes to deal with 
 your cause when you have long outgrown the 
 interest or the passion of the original source of 
 contention. Time has healed the wound. You 
 are living at peace with your whilom enemy. 
 You have shaken him by the hand, and par- 
 taken of his hospitality. 
 
 Then the law intervenes, and revives passions 
 whose fires were almost out. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 t-w 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 39 
 
 t 
 
 ft^ 
 
 t-ar 
 
 Before Donald's case came on, he sold the 
 farm to the money-lender. 
 
 Donald claimed that the latter, in the transac- 
 tion of a mortgage prior to the sale, and in the 
 terms of the sale itself, had cheated him out of 
 $900. 
 
 The sale of the farm was made in a moment 
 of angry impetuosity. Donald regretted the act, 
 and wanted the sale cancelled upon terms which 
 would settle his claim for the $900. 
 
 The money-lender re-sold the farm to a French 
 family named Duquette. 
 
 Popular sympathy is not analytical. It grasps 
 large features. It overlooks minutiae. 
 
 Donald had been wronged. He had been 
 despoiled of his farm. His years of toil in the 
 West had gone for nothing, for the money he 
 had earned had been put into the land which 
 was now occupied by a stranger. This was 
 what the people said. The young men were 
 loud in their expressions of sympathy. The 
 older heads shook dubiously. 
 
 " There would be trouble." 
 
 " Donald had a determined look. Duquette 
 made a mistake in taking the farm. The cow- 
 boys in the North- West held life rather cheap." 
 
 So the old people said. 
 
i 
 
 40 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARKNESS. 
 
 The Duquettes took possession of the farm. 
 
 They were quiet, inoffensive people. 
 
 Donald had been seen moving about between 
 Marsden and Lake Megantic wearing an air of 
 disquietude. 
 
 Something was impending. In a vague way 
 the people felt that something sinister was going 
 to happen. 
 
 'Twas about midnight in the village of 
 Marsden. Darkness enveloped it as a mourning 
 garment. Painful effort, and strife, and sorrow 
 were all forgotten in that deep sleep which, as 
 the good Book says, is peculiarly sweet to the 
 laboring man. 
 
 The Duquettes had not yet retired to rest. 
 Mrs. Duquette had been kept up by an ailing 
 child. She was sitting with her little one on her 
 knee. 
 
 Suddenly there was a detonation and a crash 
 of glass. A whizzing bullet lodged in the face 
 of the clock above Mrs. Duquette's head. 
 
 
 
 T 
 
 W" 
 
 I- I 
 
 T 
 
 J 
 
^J 
 
 THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 41 
 
 « 
 
 i 
 
 W 
 
 Who fired the shot ? And what was the 
 motive ? Was it intended that the bullet should 
 kill, or only alarm ? 
 
 Was it intended that the Duquettes should 
 recognize the desirability of vacating the farm ? 
 
 Who fired the shot ? 
 
 Nothing was said openly about it ; but the 
 old people shook their heads, and hinted that 
 cowboys, with pistols ostentatiously stuck in 
 their belts, were not the most desirable residents 
 of a quiet village like Marsden. 
 
 t- 
 
 J 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "BURNT A HOLE IN 'THE NIGHT." 
 
 That shot in the darkness furnished a theme 
 for endless gossip amongst the villagers. There 
 was not much work done the next day. When 
 the exercise of the faculties is limited to con- 
 siderations associated with the rare occurrence 
 of a wedding or a death, intellectual activity is 
 not great. Abstract reasoning is unknown ; but 
 a new objective fact connected with the environ- 
 ment is seized upon with great avidity. 
 
' i 
 
 42 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 That shot was felt to be ominous. Was it the 
 prologue to the tragedy? There was to be 
 something more than that shot. 
 
 What was it ? 
 
 Would anything else happen, and when would 
 it happen ? < 
 
 • •••• ••• 
 
 The villagers were not kept long in suspense. 
 
 A few nights afterwards there was a lurid 
 glare in the sky. 
 
 It was red, and sinister, and quivering. 
 
 What could it mean ? 
 
 Was it a celestial portent which thus wrote 
 itself upon the face of the heavens ? 
 
 The villagers assembled in alarm. 
 
 " Why, it's Duquette's place on fire !" 
 
 Yes, the homestead had been fired, and the 
 conflagration made a red, ragged hole in the 
 blackness of the night ! 
 
 i^ 
 
 ] 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SUSPICION FALLS UPON DONALD, AND A 
 WARRANT IS ISSUED AGAINST HIM. 
 
 This was the second act in the drama. 
 
 The situations were strong and in bold relief. 
 
 '^ 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 43 
 
 ? 
 
 4 
 
 Would the interest deepen in dramatic 
 accrument ? 
 
 Donald was generally suspected ; but he had 
 commenced to experience that sympathy which 
 was to withstand all attempts of the Govern- 
 ment to shake it — attempts which appealed 
 alternately to fears and cupidity. 
 
 There was no proof against him, but even 
 those who, if there had been proof, would have 
 condemned the act, would not put forth a hand 
 to injure him. 
 
 To understand the strength of the feeling of 
 clannishness in this district one must reside 
 amongst the people. 
 
 Donald was suspected, as we have said, and a 
 warrant was made out against him on the charge 
 of arson. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ^ 
 
 HE THOUGHT OF HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, AND 
 HE RETURNED TO SHERBROOKE. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. A — 
 " Good morning, Mr. L 
 morning." 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 >j 
 
 A lovely 
 
44 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 " Are you going far ? " 
 
 " I am going to Marsden. By the way, have 
 you seen Donald Morrison lately ? " 
 
 " I saw him yesterday. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Well, I may tell you that I have a warrant 
 to arrest him on a charge of arson." 
 
 Mr. L looked very thoughtful. " Do 
 
 you know the kind of man you have to deal 
 with ? " 
 
 "I have heard a good deal about him, especially 
 since he returned from the West. But why do 
 you ask ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. L , " whether 
 
 Donald set fire to the Duquette's place or not, 
 but I know that his real or fancied wrongs have 
 made him morose and irritable — aye, I will 
 add, dangerous. You are a married man, Mr. 
 A ?" 
 
 " Yes.'' 
 
 " You have a family ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Take my advice," said Mr. L impres- 
 
 sively. " Don't try to execute this warrant. Go 
 straight back to Sherbrooke." 
 
 "But my duty," said Mr. A irresolutely. 
 
 " Where could you find Morrison, anyway ? 
 And if you did find him, and attempted to exe- 
 
 li 
 
 
 
 t 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 45 
 
 . 
 
 cute the warrant, I tell you," said Mr. L , 
 
 with great earnestness, " there would be blood- 
 shed." 
 
 Mr. A thought a moment, held out his 
 
 hand to Mr. L , and turned his face 
 
 towards Sherbrooke. 
 
 li 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE TRAGEDY. 
 
 Macbeth — *' I have done the deed. 
 This is a sorry sight." 
 
 James Warren was a stout, thick-set man, 
 about forty years of age. He was an American 
 by birth, but he had lived for many years in 
 Compton County. It was said that he had made 
 a good deal of money by smuggling goods into 
 the States. He had the reputation of being a 
 hard liver, and something of a braggart. 
 
 Warren had been sworn in as a special con- 
 stable to arrest Donald. Armed with the 
 warrant, he had lounged round the village of 
 Megantic watching his opportunity. He made 
 loud boasts that he would take Morrison dead 
 or alive. He pulled out a pistol. This gave 
 emphasis to the threat. 
 
L 
 
 46 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 We have already said that Donald always 
 went armed. Sometimes he carried a rifle : 
 more generally a couple of six-shooters. 
 
 Warren was in the hotel drinking. It was 
 about noon on a beautiful day in June. 
 
 One of the villagers rushed into the bar. 
 
 " Here's Morrison coming down the street," he 
 said, in a tone of excitement. 
 
 " All right," said Warren, " this is my 
 chance." 
 
 " You daren't arrest him," a by-stander said. 
 
 " Daren't I, by ," he replied. " Here, give 
 
 me a drink of whiskey." 
 
 He quaffed the glass, and went out to the 
 front. Donald was coming towards him. He 
 saw Warren, and crossed to the other side to 
 avoid him. 
 
 Warren went over and intercepted him. 
 
 " You've got to come with me," said Warren, 
 pulling out the warrant. 
 
 " Let me pass," Donald replied in firm, com- 
 manding tones, " I want to have nothing to do 
 with you." 
 
 " But, by , I have something to do with 
 
 you," Warren angrily retorted. " You have got 
 to come with me, dead or alive." 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 47 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Donald demanded, 
 while his right hand sought his hip pocket. 
 
 " I mean what I say," Warren replied, fast 
 losing control over himself. Pulling out his 
 revolver, he covered Donald, and commanded 
 him to surrender. 
 
 About a dozen people watched the scene in 
 front of the hotel, chained to the spot with a 
 species of horrible fascination. 
 
 The moment that Donald saw Warren pull 
 out his revolver, and cover him with it, he 
 clenched his teeth with a deadly determination, 
 and, whipping out his own weapon, and taking 
 steady aim, he fired. 
 
 Warren, with his pistol at full cock in his 
 hand, fell back— dead ! 
 
 The bullet had entered the brain through the 
 temple. 
 
 Donald bent over him, saw that he was dead, 
 and, muttering between his teeth, "It was either 
 my life or his," walked down the street out of 
 sight. 
 
 Warren lay in a pool of blood, a ghastly spec- 
 tacle. Some poor mother had once held this 
 man to her breast, and shed tears of joy or 
 sorrow over him ! 
 
48 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 t 
 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AFTERWARDS. 
 
 The inquest was over. Donald Morrison was 
 found guilty of having slain Warren. He 
 walked abroad openly. No one attempted to 
 interfere with him. After the natural horror at 
 the deed had subsided, sympathy went out to 
 Donald. He had slain a man. True. But it 
 was in self-defence. Had not Warren been seen 
 pointing the pistol at him ? Even admitting 
 that Warren had no intention to shoot, but on' 
 intended to intimidate Donald, how could the 
 latter know that ? Donald had killed a man in 
 the assertion of the first law of nature — self- 
 preservation. 
 
 The people deplored the act. But they did 
 not feel justified in handing Donald over to jus- 
 tice. 
 
 The news of the terrible tragedy spread. The 
 papers got hold of the story, and made the most 
 of it. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE BLOW FALLS. 
 
 " Father, father, what is the matter ? What 
 ails you ? " 
 
 Mr. Minton had taken up the paper after 
 breakfast. He had glanced carelessly down the 
 columns. 
 
 The editorials were dull, and the news meagre. 
 Suddenly, he came across a large heading — 
 
 •* DREADFUL TRAGEDY ! " 
 
 He read a ew lines, and then uttered a cry of 
 horror. He threw down the paper, and looked 
 at Minnie. It was a look of anguish. 
 
 Minnie reached forward for the paper. Her 
 eye caught the fatal head line. By its suggestion 
 of horror it provoked that hunger for details 
 which, in its acute stage, becomes pruriency. 
 
 This is what the eye, with a constantly aug- 
 menting expression of fearfulness, conveyed to 
 the brain : — 
 
 " Dreadful Tragedy. — About mid-day yes- 
 terday one of the most fearful tragedies ever 
 enacted in this province, indeed in Canada, took 
 
ill 
 
 60 
 
 DONALD MORIilSON, 
 
 place in the village of Megantic. Our readers 
 are familiar with the agrarian troubles in which 
 Donald Morrison has been figuring for some 
 time past. They have also been apprised that, 
 upon the burning of Duquette's homestead, sus- 
 picion at once fell upon Donald. A warrant, 
 charging him with arson, was sworn out against 
 him, and a man named Warren undertook to 
 execu*^e it. It is alleged that the latter, armed 
 with the warrant and a huge revolver, swaggered 
 about Megantic for several days, boasting that 
 he would take Morrison dead or alive. Be that 
 as it may, the two men met yesterday outside 
 the village hotel. The accounts of what followed 
 are most conflicting. One of our reporters 
 interviewed several witnesses of the scene, and 
 the following statements, we believe, may be 
 relied upon. Warren approached Morrison, and, 
 in a loud tone of voice, told him that he had a 
 warrant for him, and commanded him to sur- 
 render. The latter attempted to get past, and 
 said he wanted to have nothing to do with him. 
 With that Warren pulled out a pistol, and ordered 
 Morrison to throw up his hands. Now, whether 
 Morrison fully believed that Warren meant to 
 shoot him, will never, of course, be known. That 
 is the statement he made to our reporter with 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 51 
 
 every appearance of earnestness, subsequent to 
 the occurrence. At any rate, the moment that 
 Warren's pistol appeared, Morrison whipped out 
 his revolver, and shot him through the head. 
 Warren fell backward, and died in a few minutes. 
 The dreadful act has caused the utmost excite- 
 ment throughout the country, whose annals, as 
 far as serious crime is concerned, are stainless; 
 A singular circumstance must be noted. There 
 is not a single person who regards Morrison in 
 the light of a murderer. The act is everywhere 
 deplored, but Morrison's own statement, backed 
 by several witnesses, that he committed the deed 
 in self-defence, is as generally accepted, and the 
 consequence is that every house is open to him, 
 no man's back is turned upon him, and his 
 friends still hold out to him the hand of fellow- 
 ship. He is still at large, and likely to be so, 
 as the county is without police, and strangers 
 coming here would have no chance of arresting 
 him. Indeed, Morrison, armed with a rifle and 
 two revolvers, walks about Megantic and Mars- 
 den in broad daylight — perfectly safe from harm, 
 as far as the people themselves are concerned. 
 It is said the Provincial Government are about 
 to take some steps in the matter." 
 
 Minnie read this account through to the end. 
 

 * . • 
 
 52 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Shq seemed to grow stiff, and her eyes dilated 
 with a nameless horror. She did not faint. 
 That is a privilege reserved for the heroines of 
 the Seaside Library. This is a very modest 
 narrative of fact, and we could not afford so 
 dramatic a luxury as that. Minnie was a hearty 
 country girl, and oatmeal repudiates all affinity 
 with hysterics. 
 
 Minnie read the article, threw down the 
 paper, and rushed to her room. She flung her- 
 self beside her bed. First of all, she didn't 
 believe the story. It was a foul lie. " What ! 
 Donald Morrison kill a man ! Donald, my lover, 
 whom I have known since childhood — whose 
 generous instincts I have so often admired ! 
 Donald Morrison to redden his hands with the 
 blood of his fellow ! Impossible, impossible ! 
 Oh, Donald, Donald," she cried wildly, " say it 
 isn't true ; say it isn't true ! " 
 
 She knelt over the bed, too deeply stricken 
 for tears. After that passionate prayer for 
 denial — a prayer which is constantly ascending 
 from humanity, and which, asking for an assur- 
 ance that the storm shall not ravish the rose of 
 life, has in it perhaps at bottom something of 
 selfishness — she remained motionless. She was 
 thinking it out. It was true Donald /lac^ killed 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 53 
 
 a man. The report could not lie so circumstan- 
 tially. The place, and the date, and the details 
 were given. The story was true, and Donald 
 had taken a life. But then, had he committed 
 murder ? A thousand times, no ! Warren had 
 threatened to kill Donald. Warren would have 
 killed him. Donald defended himself; and if, 
 in defending himself, he had taken a life, what 
 then ? Terrible — too terrible for words ; but 
 life was as sweet to Donald as it was to Warren. 
 A moment later and he would have been the 
 victim. He obeyed the fundamental law of 
 nature. 
 
 Thus Minnie tried to reason, but it brought 
 no comfort to her. Her simple dream of love 
 and modest happiness was over. She knew 
 that. The beautiful vase of life was broken, and 
 no art could mend it ! 
 
 When thought was in some degree restored, 
 she sat down ard wrote the following letter; — 
 
 " Oh, Donald, Donald, what have I read in 
 the papers ? Is it true ? Is it true ? 
 
 " Tell me all. Even if the truth be the very 
 worst, do not fear that I shall reproach you. 
 God forbid that I should sit in judgment upon 
 you. Look to God. He can pardon the 
 deepest guilt. My feelings are not changed 
 
54 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 toward you. I loved you when you were 
 innocent, and I would not be worthy the name 
 of woman if I were not faithful even in despair. 
 Hasty you may have been, but I know that 
 wickedness never had a lodgment in your heart. 
 
 * Oh, what was love made for if 'tis not the same 
 Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame.* 
 
 " Your broken hearted 
 
 " Minnie." 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 , WHAT WAS DONALD ABOUT. 
 
 When Mrs. Morrison learnt the dreadful news 
 that Donald had shot Warren, the poor old 
 woman was overwhelmed with despair. Donald 
 himself broke the news to her. After satisfying 
 himself that Warren was dead, he turned on his 
 heel and went home to Marsden. 
 
 " Mother," he said, with terrible calmness, 
 when he entered the door, " I have killed 
 Warren." 
 
 Mrs. Morrison looked at him vaguely. She 
 did not comprehend. 
 
 " Warren wanted to arrest me this morning in 
 Megantic, and because I refused to go with him 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 55 
 
 he pulled out a pistol, as I thought, to shoot me. 
 I fired at him. The shot killed him." 
 
 Mrs. Morrison uttered a shriek. " Oh, Donald, 
 my son, my son," she exclaimed, " what is this, 
 what is this ? Killed Warren ! Oh, you must 
 fly at once, or they will be after you ! " 
 
 "No, mother, I will not run. I will stay 
 where I am. They can't arrest me. I can easily 
 avoid all who are sent for that purpose. My 
 friends will keep me informed of their doings. 
 But, mother, whatever others say, I want you to 
 believe that I never thought of harming a hair 
 of Warren's head when he met me. I fired in 
 self-defence. I deplore his death ; but it was 
 either he or I." 
 
 "Oh, I believe you, Donald, and your poor 
 mother," breaking into a violent fit of weeping, 
 " your poor mother will never turn against you. 
 But what will be the end ? The officers must 
 take you some time." 
 
 " I don't know what the end will be," he said 
 gloomily. " If I thought I would get a fair trial 
 I might give myself up ; but if I did so now 
 they would hang me, I believe. I will wait and 
 see, and the woods, with every inch of which I 
 am familiar, will be my retreat, should the pur- 
 suit ever be dangerous." 
 
56 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Donald's father took the news stoically. His 
 nature was not emotional. The relations between 
 father and son were strained. Little was said on 
 either side. 
 
 Donald walked about as usual. He had 
 repeated to his immediate friends every circum- 
 stance of the tragedy. They fully believed him 
 innocent of murder. This exoneration was of 
 great value to him. From mouth to mouth the 
 story spread that Donald fired in self-defence, 
 and the latter found that all the faces he met 
 were friendly faces. 
 
 What he said to himself in his own room 
 every night, he said to his friends — " I regret the 
 deed. I had no thought of touching Warren. 
 When I saw his pistol flash in front of me, I felt 
 in a moment that my life was at stake. I obeyed 
 an instinct, which prompted me to get the first 
 shot to save myself I could get back to the 
 States, but I'll stay right here. Let them take 
 me if they can." 
 
 In vain his friends urged flight. He was 
 inflexible on this point. 
 
 So, as we have stated, he walked abroad in 
 perfect safety. He carried his rifle and his two 
 revolvers, and possibly, in some quarters, this 
 rather suggestive display may, in some degree, 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 57 
 
 have accounted for the civility with which he 
 was everywhere greeted. 
 
 The county authorities had not moved against 
 him. The Provincial Government had not as 
 yet intervened. A price was not yet set upon 
 his capture. He was free to go and come as he 
 chose, and yet he moved amongst those who had 
 seen him take the life of a fellow creature. 
 
 Minnie's letter, addressed to his father's care, 
 reached him. It moved him deeply. Since the 
 tragedy he had frequently tried to write to her, 
 but never found the courage. 
 
 He recognized that all hope of future union 
 with Minnie was now impossible. He had 
 taken a life. At any moment the officers of the 
 law might be on his track. His arrest might 
 lead him to the scaffold. 
 
 In his reply to Minnie, Donald described the 
 tragic scene with which the reader is familiar, 
 deplored the occurrence, but, with great earnest- 
 ness, asked her to believe that he had acted only 
 in self-defence. " I started out," he said, in one 
 portion of his letter, " to go to church last Sun- 
 day evening. I had reached the door, when I 
 thought — * Donald, you have broken a law of 
 God ! ' and I had not the courage to go in." 
 
 We quote this passage merely in confirmation 
 

 58 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 of our statement that Donald felt perfectly free 
 to go abroad after the tragedy, and to partici- 
 pate in the social life of the village. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ACTION OF THE PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT. — 
 FIVE OFFICERS SENT TO MEGANTIC. 
 
 To the common mind government is some- 
 thing vast, mysterious, and powerful. It is asso- 
 ciated with armies and navies, and an unlimited 
 police force. There are a glittering sword, a 
 ponderous mace, and an argus eye, that reaches 
 to the remotest point of territory like a great 
 big electric search light, in it. 
 
 No man is a hero to his valet, and the nearer 
 you get to the seat of power, the less does 
 government impose upon the imagination. 
 Those who read, with infinite respect, " that the 
 Government has decided, after a protracted 
 meeting of the Cabinet, to levy a tax upon 
 terrier dogs for purposes of revenue," would be 
 shocked to learn that government meant a small 
 table, a bottle of wine, a few cigars, and two men 
 not a whit above the mental or moral level of 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 59 
 
 the ordinary citizen. Government imposes when 
 you meet it in respectful capitals in the public 
 prints, but when you get a glimpse of it in its 
 shirt sleeves, en faniilky or playing harlequin 
 upon the top of a barrel at the hustings, or 
 tickling the yokels with bits of cheap millinery 
 and silk stockings, and reflect that you have paid 
 homage to that, you begin to doubt the saving 
 efficacy of the ballot box. 
 
 Now, the Government of Quebec is neither a 
 naval nor a military power. It doesn't want to 
 fight, and if it did it hasn't got either the ships, 
 or the men,£)r the money. The Sergeant-at- Arms 
 in the Legislative Assembly is the only military 
 person in its pay. It has not even a single 
 policeman to assert the majesty of the law. 
 
 The Government of Quebec is the Hon. 
 Honore Mercier. 
 
 Mr. Mercier is like the first Napoleon. He 
 chooses tools to assist, not strong individualities 
 to oppose, him. 
 
 Party journalism in the Province of Quebec 
 is peculiarly bitter and mendacious. The Press 
 generally had made the most of the shooting of 
 Warren. A month had elapsed, and no attempt 
 had been made to arrest Morrison, who, it was 
 alleged, swaggered through the country armed 
 
60 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 to the teeth, and threatening death to the man 
 who should attempt to take him. It was gener- 
 ally agreed that this was a scandal. But the 
 opposition journals made political capital out of 
 the affair. 
 
 " What ! was this the Mercier Government ? 
 Was this the sort of law and order we were pro- 
 mised under his regime? Here was a criminal 
 at large defying the law. Was Mr. Mercier 
 afraid to arrest him, lest he might forfeit the 
 Liberal votes of the county ? It looked like it. 
 Could Mr. Mercier not impress, for love or 
 money, a single man in the Province to under- 
 take the task of arresting Morrison ? Or was 
 Mr. Mercier so taken up with posing in that 
 Gregory costume that he had no time to devote 
 to the affairs of his country ? " 
 
 Mr. Mercier's reply to the party Press was to 
 send down five special constables to Megantic. 
 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TELLS HOW THE CONSTABLES ENJOYED 
 THEMSELVES. 
 
 Ci*SAR — * ' Let me have men about me that are fat — 
 
 Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights." 
 
 The five constables that Mr. Mercier sent 
 down to Megantic put up in the village hotel. 
 
 Within an hour Donald had received the 
 following note : — 
 
 "Dear Donald, — Action 
 from Quebec after you. 
 Marsden for a day or so. 
 is much to fear. They would not know you, I 
 believe, if they met you, and they are so 
 frightened by the stories they have heard about 
 you, that I don't believe they would dare to 
 arrest you, even if they found you. However, 
 as well be on the safe side. Go into the woods 
 a little bit." 
 
 The people soon knew that an attempt was 
 to be made to arrest Donald. The young men 
 gathered in the hotel round the constables, and 
 told blood-curdling stories of his dare-devilism 
 in the North- West. 
 
 at last. Five men 
 
 Keep away from 
 
 I don't think there 
 
62 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 The constables were fat, phlegmatic, and any- 
 thing but heroic. What they had been accus- 
 tomed to was an unexciting and steady beat in 
 the drowsy old city of Quebec, and small but 
 unfailingly regular drinks of whiskey blaric. 
 This duty was new. Worst of all, it was 
 perilous. This Morrison — he might shoot at 
 sight. True, they were armed with rifles and 
 revolvers ; but they had heard that he was a 
 dead shot. Perhaps he might shoot first. That 
 would, to say the least, be awkward, perhaps 
 dangerous, perhaps even fatal. No, they had 
 not much stomach for the work, and the people, 
 perceiving this, encouraged their fears. In a 
 very short time Donald became a combination 
 of Italian brigand^ Dick Turpin, and Wild West 
 Cowboy, as these latter are depicted in the dime 
 stories. 
 
 Whenever, therefore, the officers took their 
 walks abroad, they stepped very gingerly as they 
 approached the village of Marsden. It never 
 occurred to them to enter Donald's home. Th'^ 
 might have found him half-a-dozen time 
 They never once crossed the thresholu )f the 
 woods. 
 
 Did not this terrible character know every 
 tangled path, and might he not open fire upon 
 them without being seen ? 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 63 
 
 The country roads are really white lines 
 through the green of the woods. 
 
 One morning the constables left the hotel, 
 primed with a little whiskey. They took the 
 road to Marsden. The woods skirted the narrow 
 way on either side. The summer was now well 
 advanced, and the foliage was so thick as to form 
 an impenetrable lacery. 
 
 " We have been here a month now," said the 
 officer in charge, in French, "and we have accom- 
 plished nothing. I shall ask to be relieved at 
 once. The people will not help us. How could 
 we ever find a man in these woods ? He might 
 be here this moment," pointing to the trees at 
 his right, " yet what chance would we have of 
 taking him ? " 
 
 With one accord, the four subordinates 
 answered " None." 
 
 " Suppose he were here," and the officer halted 
 
 on his step, how What is that ? Did you 
 
 hear anything ? " 
 
 " Yes," said one of the constables timorously, 
 " I heard a noise in the brushwood." 
 
 " Suppose it were Morrison ? " 
 
 And they looked at each other apprehensively. 
 
 " We will return," said the officer. " It is pro- 
 bably a bear. If I thought it were Morrison, I 
 would enter the wood," he said valorously. 
 
64 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 When they were gone, a brown face peeped 
 out. It was Donald. " They're scared," he said 
 to himself, laughing. " Not much danger from 
 them. I don't believe they would know me. I'll 
 test it." 
 
 He laid down his rifle at the foot of a tree, 
 looked to his pistols, and walked rapidly in the 
 direction the constables had taken. Overtaking 
 them, he pushed his way through the brush- 
 wood, in advance of them, and then, at a bend 
 in the road which hid him from view, he leaped 
 out upon the road, turned, and met the party. 
 He walked straight up to them, looked them in 
 the eye, and passed on. They did not know 
 him ; or, if, as was alleged against them after- 
 wards, they knew him, they were afraid to arrest 
 him. The statement that Donald carried his 
 audacity so far as to enter the hotel, and drink 
 with them, he himself laughingly denied to his 
 friends. 
 
 The opposition papers jeered at the failure of 
 the expedition. Ridicule is the m.ost powerful 
 of weapons. Man is not half so humorous as 
 the dog or the elephant. With the latter it is 
 an instinct. With the former it is an acquire- 
 ment Still, the perception of humor is fairly 
 general. Don't argue with your opponent. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 66 
 
 Kill him with ridicule. Laughter is deadly. 
 When the people laugh at a Government it can 
 put its spare collar and shirt in its red handker- 
 chief, and retire to the privacy of its family. 
 Mr. Mercier is sensitive to ridicule. 
 
 Mr. Mercier withdrew that expedition, and 
 offered $3,000 reward for the capture of Mor- 
 rison ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PROOF \GAINST BRIBES! 
 ** A man's a man for a' that." 
 
 It was now that Donald was to prove that 
 integrity which for ages has been so noble an 
 attribute of the Highlander. 
 
 To many of^ the villagers $3,000 would have 
 been a fortune. But if Donald spent more of 
 his time in the woods now than formerly, it was 
 not that he doubted the honor of the poorest 
 peasant in the county. He well knew that there 
 was not a man or woman who would have 
 accepted the reward if it were to save them from 
 starvation. He had no fear on that score. He 
 became more reserved in his movements, because 
 
66 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 his friends informed him that since the offer of 
 the reward, several suspicious-looking individuals 
 from Montreal, pretending to be commercial 
 travellers, had been seen loitering in the village. 
 He therefore drew farther into the woods, and 
 avoided his father's house, either going to the 
 houses of his friends for food, or having it brought 
 to him. If danger seemed pressing, he passed the 
 night in the woods, his rifle close to his side ; but 
 ordinarily, during this time he slept at the homes 
 of his friends. The arrival of every stranger 
 was known to him. Faithful friends noted 
 down their description, aitd these notes either 
 reached him at a given rendezvous in the 
 woods, or at the houses where he passed the 
 night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE REWARD FAILS. 
 
 Time passed on. Donald was still at large. 
 The reward had failed. Private detectives from 
 Montreal, who had remained in the district for 
 weeks, returned in disgust, confessing that 
 Morrison's capture was impossible so long as he 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 67 
 
 tk I •' 
 
 '■ 
 
 ^ w 
 
 
 had friends to inform him of every movement, 
 and the woods to retreat to. 
 
 At the police headquarters in Montreal various 
 schemes were discussed. Chief Hughes was of 
 opinion that thirty resolute men, skilfully 
 directed, could accomplish the capture. 
 
 It was now the fall, and if action were not 
 speedily taken, the winter woods, filled with 
 snow, would soon mock all effort of authority. 
 
 The press kept up the public interest in the 
 case. Morrison had been seen drinking at the 
 hotel in Lake Megantic. He had attended a 
 dance in Marsden. He had driven publicly with 
 the Mayor of Gould, with his rifle slung from his 
 shoulder. He went to church every Sunday, and 
 he had taken the sacrament. All this according 
 to the press. Did the Mercier Government, 
 then, confess that it had abdicated its functions ? 
 Was this Scotland in the Seventeenth Century, 
 and this Morrison a romantic Rob Roy, with a 
 poetic halo round his picturesque head, or was it 
 America in the Nineteenth, with the lightning 
 express, the phonograph, and Pinkerton's bureau, 
 and this criminal one of a vulgar type in whose 
 crime sentiment had no place ? 
 
 Did the Government intend to allow this man 
 to defy the law ? If it did, was this not putting 
 
68 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 a premium upon crime? If it did not, what 
 steps did it intend to take to secure his arrest? 
 Thus far the newspapers. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE GOVERNMENT TAKES OFF ITS COAT. 
 
 The winter had passed. The first expedition 
 had failed. The reward had failed, for the people, 
 sincerely regretting the tragedy, and anxious 
 that Donald should give himself up, scorned to 
 betray the man who had trusted in their honor. 
 
 Donald had spent the winter in comparative 
 security. Anxiety had made him thin, but he 
 was as firmly fixed as ever in his determination 
 to hold out. He knew that as long as his friends 
 remained faithful to him he could never be taken. 
 His mind did not seem to travel beyond that. 
 " He would never be taken." He was urged in 
 vain to escape to the Str*:es. He was urged in 
 vain to give himself up. To the promise that 
 his friends would see that he received a fair trial, 
 he would answer bitterly : " Promises are easy 
 now because they have not to be kept. Hovy 
 
 '• 
 
 
The CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 would it be when, behind iron bars, and hope cut 
 off, they could not be kept ? " 
 
 • •••«••• 
 
 Mr. Mercier felt that if the Government was 
 not to suffer serious loss oi prestige, it must adopt 
 heroic measures. 
 
 Mr. Mercier obtained from the city of Montreal 
 the loan of fifteen picked men. He placed these 
 in the immediate charge of High Constable 
 Bissonnette. Major Dugas, a police magistrate, 
 a skilled lawyer, and a gallant officer, who, in 
 1885, had promptly responded to the call of 
 duty in the North-West, he placed in supreme 
 command of this expedition, to which he said 
 dramatically, " Arrest Morrison !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVHI. 
 
 THE HUNTED OUTLAW. 
 
 The expedition arrived in Stornaway upon a 
 raw morning in April. 
 
 Donald knew all that could be learned within 
 an hour. 
 
 " I must be careful now," he said; " Well, if 
 they can follow me through the woods on snow- 
 shoes, they're welcome to begin the pursuit." 
 
70 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Major Dugas' capacity was largely magis- 
 terial. He had the supreme direction of the 
 men, indeed, but the carrying out of the move- 
 ments was to be entrusted to the High Con- 
 stable. The men had been carefully chosen. 
 They were armed with rifles and revolvers, and 
 their orders were to shoot Morrison, if, when 
 accosted, he should refuse to surrender. Major 
 Dugas' plan was eminently politic. He first 
 wanted to conciliate the people, and then induce 
 them to bring such pressure upon Donald as 
 would induce him to surrender upon being 
 promised a fair trial. " This," said the Major 
 to the leading men of the place, with whom he 
 placed himself in communication the first day of 
 his arrival, " is the wisest way to end the affair. 
 The Government is in earnest. Morrison must 
 be arrested. No matter how long it takes, this 
 must be accomplished. Let the people come to 
 the assistance of the law, let them refuse to 
 harbor Morrison, and the thing is done. But 
 should they fail to do this, then, however dis- 
 agreeable it may be to me, I must arrest all 
 suspected of helping him in any way." 
 
 At first the people were sullen. They resented 
 the incursion of an armed force. Among the 
 party was Sergeant Clarke, who brought his 
 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 71 
 
 I 
 
 bagpipes with him. There may be some people 
 who have a prejudice against the bagpipes. 
 This proceeds from defective musical education. 
 Sergeant Clarke's bagpipes proved a potent factor 
 in securing the personal goodwill of the people. 
 He played " Auld Scottish airs," and many of 
 the old men, mellowed with whiskey, wept in the 
 bar-room of the little hotel at Stornaway. The 
 courtesy of Major Dugas, and the civil bearing 
 of the men, told upon the people, but neverthe- 
 less they did not abate one jot of what they 
 called their loyalty to Donald. 
 
 The latter's best friends now saw there could 
 only be one ending. Donald might not be taken 
 alive. But he would be taken, alive or dead. 
 That was clear. The Government could not now 
 retreat. The expedition must be carried to a 
 successful issue. Whatever hope there was for 
 Donald if brought to trial now, there would be 
 none if he shed more blood. But Donald was 
 past reasoning with. These considerations, 
 urged again and again, fell upon dull ears. 
 " I am determined," he said, " to fight it out." 
 He said this with firmly compressed lips. It 
 was useless to persuade. 
 
 The expedition was divided into three parties. 
 To cordon the woods would have required an 
 
72 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 army. The points covered were Stornaway 
 (Major Dugas' headquarters), Gould and Mars- 
 den. Photographs of the outlaw were obtained 
 and distributed among the men. The roads 
 were mud, and the woods filled with soft 
 snow. Infinite diflficulty was experienced at 
 every turn. The men were not prepared for 
 roughing it. They required long boots and 
 snowshoes. They had neither. Detective Car- 
 penter, indeed, essayed the " sifters," but he could 
 make little progress, and he did not see the man 
 whose name was upon every lip, and who had 
 just declared to the enterprising reporter who 
 had penetrated to his fastness, " that he would 
 never be taken alive." The several parties 
 contented themselves with scouring the roads, 
 watching the railroad, and searching the houses 
 of sympathizers. This continued for a week, 
 night and day. There was no result. The men 
 suffered great privations. But the duty was 
 new, the adventure was exciting, and the element 
 of peril lent spice to it. And then, was there 
 not the consideration of $3,000 ? So, at Gould, 
 and Stornaway the men made merry in the few 
 hours' rest allotted to them. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DONALD IN THE WOODS OF MEGANTIC. 
 
 This romantic region has been proudly termed 
 the Switzerland of Canada. Its majestic hills — 
 so grandly rugged — its placid lakes, and its 
 dense and undulating forests lend an indescrib- 
 able enchantment to the companion and lover 
 of nature, who for the first time beholds their 
 supreme beauty. The tree-topped hills in their 
 altitude are at times lost in the clouds. The 
 lumberman has not yet ventured to their sum- 
 mits. He contents himself with a house in a 
 more convenient and safer spot. The monotony 
 of the prevailing quietness around these spots is 
 only broken by the tiny little stream as it 
 meanders on its course to the bottom, where it 
 refreshes the weary traveller who may perchance 
 pass that way. Tableland there is none except 
 little patches of less than an acre. The environ- 
 ments of this region are peculiarly suited to the 
 nature and tastes of the settlers, who will tell 
 you that they would not change them for all the 
 gold you could offer. The means of access to 
 the villages, away from the railway, are 
 extremely poor. The roads — if they can be so 
 
74 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 called — offer little inducement to the tourist. 
 The woods adapt themselves to the security of 
 the fugitive at all times and during all seasons. 
 In summer the verdant branches darken the 
 surroundings, while in the winter months the 
 drooping boughs, appealing in their solitude to 
 nature, are sufficient in their loneliness to con- 
 vince one that to penetrate into their midst is 
 by no means a safe venture. 
 
 Yet it was here that Donald spent his days 
 and nights at this period. Did Donald hesitate 
 whether his bed was to be on feathers or 
 branches ? No. His friends were always his 
 first consideration, and did he for a moment 
 think that by spending a night at a friend's 
 cabin he would endanger their hospitality, he 
 would quietly retire to the woods. His bed 
 consisted of a few balsam branches spread 
 rudely on the ground, with the overhanging 
 boughs pulled down and by some means or 
 other transformed into a bower. This as a 
 means of protection. When the snow covered 
 the ground to the depth of several feet, Donald 
 did not change his couch, but he made the 
 addition of a blanket, which, next to his fire- 
 arms, he considered his greatest necessity. He 
 slept well, excepting when he was awakened by 
 
 , 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 75 
 
 M. 
 
 the roar of a bear or some other wild animal. 
 Then he simply mounted a tree, and with revol- 
 ver cocked, awaited his would-be intruder. His 
 life in the woods — so full of exciting events — 
 was pleasant and safe. He never for a moment 
 believed that he could be caught were he to 
 remain hidden among the towering pines. Often 
 — strong man as he was — would he allow his 
 feelings to overcome him when thinking of the 
 possibilities which he believed life might have 
 had in store for him. The constant mental 
 strain under which he found himself seemed to 
 affect but lightly his keen sense of vivacity. 
 Wearily did he pass some of his time amidst the 
 verdancy of the woods. The sun often rose and 
 set unheeded by the fugitive. When darkness 
 set in he would furtively steal out to a friend's 
 hut, where he would participate in the frugal 
 supper, and afterwards engage in the family 
 worship, which is never forgotten by the High- 
 landers. 
 
 He was always welcome wherever he went. 
 He had no fear of being betrayed. He knew 
 his friends, and trusted them. Were he invited 
 to share the couch of his host, he would first 
 ascertain whether all was safe, and then stealthily 
 enter. 
 
76 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 SECOND WEEK OF THE SEARCH — MAJOR 
 DUGAS BECOMES SEVERE. 
 
 A week was gone. Donald had not been 
 caught. Major Dugas' policy of conciliation 
 had won personal regard. It had not caused 
 the slightest wavering among Donald's friends. 
 The very men to whom the Major talked every 
 day knew his hiding-place, and could have 
 placed their hands upon him at an hour's 
 notice. They made no sign. Every fresh 
 measure of the authorities was known to Donald, 
 and during the first week — devoted, as we have ' 
 said, to a rigorous search of the farmhouses 
 likely to be visited by the fugitive — the police 
 repeatedly reached his hiding-place only to 
 find that the bird had just taken wing ! 
 
 Major Dugas was in his room at the Storna- 
 way hotel. A severe look was in his eye. He 
 had tried conciliation. That had failed. It was 
 idle to expect any assistance from the people. 
 The better sort — perhaps all of them — would 
 have been glad if the fugitive had surrendered, 
 but they were not going to help the authorities 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 77 
 
 to induce him to do so. Very well. Then they 
 must be punished for conniving at his outlawry. 
 
 High Constable Bissonnette entered for 
 orders. 
 
 " I have determined," said the Major, " to 
 arrest all who may be suspected of harboring 
 Morrison. This measure will probably bring 
 the people to their senses. But for their help 
 he must surrender. When that is removed, I 
 am hopeful that we can take him without blood- 
 shed. I will issue the necessary warrants, and 
 I will hand them over to you for execution. The 
 measure is a severe one, but the circumstances 
 justify it." 
 
 The High Constable looked ruefully at his 
 clothing, torn and covered with mud. M. 
 Bissonnette had ample energy. He entered 
 upon the hunt with a light heart. He had not 
 spared himself, and had even ventured into 
 the wood without either long boots or snow- 
 shoes. He was fatigued and dilapidated, but he 
 had not caught Donald. 
 
 " All right, your honor," said the High Con- 
 stable, when the Major has signed a batch of 
 warrants, " I will have these attended to at 
 
 once. 
 
 » 
 
 The High Constable was as good as his word. 
 
78 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 The prominent friends of Donald were arrested 
 ind conveyed to Sherbrooke Jail, bail being 
 refused. 
 
 Major Dugas had committed an error. This 
 measure, undertaken with the proper motive of 
 putting an end to the struggle by depriving the 
 outlaw of all chance of help, was impolitic. It 
 accomplished nothing. The men were arrested, 
 but the women remained. The shelters still 
 remained for the fugitive. A bitter feeling now 
 grew in the conrimon breast against the police — 
 a feeling which the women, whose sympathies 
 were with the outlaw, and who resented the 
 arrest of their husbands, fathers, and brothers, 
 did their utmost to encourage. The police 
 found it hopeless to get a scrap of information. 
 The common people even refused to frato^-nize 
 with them in the evenings when they were 
 gathered round the bar-room of the village 
 hotel. 
 
 During this second week the police made a 
 great effort to locate the fugitive. There were 
 constant rumors regarding his whereabouts. 
 He had been seen at Gould He had slept last 
 night al his father's house. He had been seen 
 on the edge of the wood. He had been seen to 
 boaid a train bound for Montreal. The Scotch 
 
 ii 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 79 
 
 delight in grim humor. These rumors reached 
 the police at their meals, and there was a scram- 
 ble for firearms and a rush for the waggons. 
 They reached them at midnight, while they 
 were dreaming of terrific encounters with mur- 
 derous outlaws in the heart of the forest, and 
 there was a wild rush into the darkness. A few 
 of Donald's nearest friends, who had escaped 
 arrest, and started the rumors to favor the 
 movements of the outlaw, laughed sardonically 
 at the labors they imposed upon the police. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 "MANY WATERS CANNOT QUENCH LOVE." 
 
 ** Had we never loved sae kindly, 
 Had we never loved sae blindly, 
 Never met and never parted, 
 We had ne'er been broken-hearted." 
 
 Ideal love does not ask conventional recogni- 
 tion. Love is not comfort, nor house, nor lands, 
 nor the tame delights of use and wont. Love is 
 sacrifice. Always ask love to pour out its gifts 
 upon the altar of sacrifice. This is to make 
 love divine. But fill the cup of love with com- 
 fort, and certainty, and calm days of ease, and 
 you make it poor and cheap. The zest of iove 
 
80 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 is uncertainty. When love has to breast the 
 Hellespont it feels its most impassioned thrill. 
 Let there be distance, and danger, and separa- 
 tion and tears in love. Let there be dull 
 certainty, and custom stales its dearest delights. 
 Love is worthiest when it asks no requital. 
 Minnie knew that all was over. She received 
 short notes from Donald from time to time, and 
 the newspapers kept her informed of the pro- 
 gress of events. She clearly perceived that if 
 Donald did not give himself up, one of the two 
 things must happen — he would either be killed 
 himself by the police, or he would kill one or 
 more of his pursuers, with the certainty of being 
 ultimately caught, and probably hung. In her 
 letters she implored him to give himself up, and 
 not further incense the Government, which was 
 not disposed to be implacable. Finding all her 
 entreaties unavailing, she determined to visit 
 him. This was a bold resolution. It was car- 
 ried out without hesitation. A more sophisti- 
 cated nature would have asked — " Will this 
 seem modest ?" Modesty itself never asks such 
 a question. Modesty is not conscious. There 
 is no blush on its cheek. Minnie believed 
 that if she could sec Donald, she could persuade 
 him to give himself up. 
 
 > i 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 81 
 
 We won't tell you what Minnie wore, nor how 
 she got to Marsden, nor what fears she endured, 
 lest the police, suspecting her as a stranger, 
 should follow her, and discover Donald's where- 
 abouts. 
 
 Minnie reached Marsden in safety. It was 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 She had written a brief note to Donald, telling 
 him that she was coming. 
 
 The meeting took place in his father's house, 
 the old people keeping guard, so as to be able 
 to warn the fugitive should any stranger approach 
 the house. 
 
 " Donald ! " 
 
 "Minnie!" 
 
 Then they shook hands. 
 
 A mutual instinct caused them to shrink from 
 endearments. Donald was brown, thin, and 
 weary-looking. His pistols were in his pockets, 
 and his rifle slung by his side. He had just 
 come in from the woods. 
 
 Minnie looked at him, and the calmness 
 which she thought she had schooled herself to 
 maintain deserted her. She burst into tears. 
 " Oh ! Donald, Donald," she cried, " why will 
 you not end this ? If you ever loved me, I beg 
 of you to give yourself up, and stand your trial. 
 
82 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Your friends will see that you get fair play. I 
 never believed you guilty of murder. From 
 what I can hear outside, nobody believes such a 
 thing. That you should have taken a life is 
 dreadful — dreadful ! but that you took it in 
 self-defence I fully believe. For God's sake, 
 Donald, let the struggle end. You will be 
 killed ; or, carried away by passion, you may 
 take another life, and then think of your terrible 
 position. Can I move you? Once I could. 
 I love you in this terrible hour as dearly as ever, 
 and I would to God I could spare you what you 
 must now suffer. But let me try to save you 
 from yourself Listen to reason. Give yourself 
 up to Major Dugas. Your friends will procure 
 the best legal advice, and who knows but that 
 you may still have a future before you. Let me 
 urge you," and she went up to him, and laid her 
 hand upon his arm, while the tears streamed 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 Donald took her hand, and kissed it. He 
 was greatly moved. " I can't, Minnie," he said. 
 " I can't do it I would never get a fair trial. 
 I feel it. No, once arrested, they would either 
 keep me in jail for ever, or hang me. I have 
 baffled them now for nearly a year, and I can 
 baffle them still. They must give up at last." 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 83 
 
 " But have you not heard," Minnie said, " that 
 they are bringing on fifteen more men from 
 Quebec ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Donald, smiling sadly it 
 seemed, " I am kept well informed, though they 
 have arrested most of my friends. Let them 
 bring on a hundred men. They can't take me 
 without I'm betrayed." 
 
 " And I saw in the papers," said Minnie, with 
 a look of horror, " that if these failed, they would 
 employ bloodhounds against you." 
 
 Donald flushed. " I can't believe they would 
 dare to do such a thing," he said. " Public 
 opinion would not stand it. No, I'm not afraid 
 of that." 
 
 " Then, must my visit be in vain, Donald ? " 
 Minnie pleaded. 
 
 " I may be acting unwisely, Minnie," Donald 
 responded, " but I can't agree to give myself up. 
 I feel that I must fight it out as I am doing. 
 What the end will be God only knows. But I 
 want you to forget me, Minnie. Forget me, and 
 learn, by and by, to be happy in other com- 
 panionships. You are young, and life is before 
 you. I never thought we would end like this. 
 But it must be. I can't recall what has hap- 
 pened. I am an outlaw. Perhaps the scaffold 
 
84 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 awaits me. Your love would have blessed my 
 life. I suppose fate would not have it so." 
 
 " Donald, Donald." It was the voice of his 
 mother, who now came quickly in exclaiming, 
 " they are coming towards the house ; away to 
 the bush ; quick." 
 
 Donald took Minnie's hand and wrung it 
 hard. He bent down and kissed her forehead. 
 " God bless you," he said — " farewell." 
 
 Then he rushed out of the house, and dis- 
 appeared from view in the woods. 
 
 It was a party of five policemen, armed with 
 rifles. 
 
 They were too late ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MAJOR DUGAS MEETS THE OUTLAW FACE TO 
 FACE — A UNIQUE INTERVIEW. 
 
 Minnie was right about the reinforcements, 
 though the suggestion as to bloodhounds proved 
 to be nothing but idle rumor. Fifteen men 
 came from Quebec. The expedition numbered 
 now thirty-five men. The search increased in 
 rigor. The houses were visited day and night. 
 
 , 
 
 ^Mi 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 85 
 
 The roads and the outskirts of the wood were 
 watched almost constantly. Donald was not 
 caught. He could not sleep in the houses of his 
 friends, but he could make a bed in the woods. 
 He could not venture to take a meal under a 
 roof, but a neighbor woman could always man- 
 age to bring him a loaf of bread and a bottle of 
 milk. The police visited his father's house, 
 broke open his trunk, and took away all his 
 letters, including poor Minnie's correspondence 
 — an act which, when Donald knew of it, caused 
 him to declare with an oath that if he met the 
 man who did it, he would shoot him down like 
 a dog. 
 
 Major Dugas was disgusted. He had been in 
 the district nearly three weeks. He had tried 
 conciliation. That had failed. He had tried 
 severity. That, too, had failed. He had 
 increased the searching force. That, also, had 
 availed nothing. 
 
 When, therefore, three of Donald's firmest 
 friends approached the Major with the proposi- 
 tion that he should order the suspension of 
 operations while he held an interview with the 
 outlaw, they found him not indisposed to listen 
 to the extraordinary proposal. Donald was to 
 be found, and his friends pledged their honor 
 
86 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 ji 
 
 
 that he would meet the Major when and where 
 he pleased, provided the latter would give his 
 word that he would take no measures to arrest 
 him. 
 
 Major Dugas hesitated for a long time, but 
 finally accepted the terms. He was severely 
 blamed in the press for parleying with an out- 
 law. Whatever may be said about the wisdom 
 of the arrangement, in scrupulously observing 
 the terms of it, Major Dugas acted like a gentle- 
 man and a man of honor. That he should be 
 blamed for honoring his own pledged word 
 proves how crude is the common code of ethics. 
 
 Major Dugas ordered the suspension of 
 operations. In the company of Donald's friends, 
 he drove to Marsden ; and there, in a rude log 
 school-house, he was introduced to the famous 
 outlaw. 
 
 "You are alone, Major Dugas," Donald said 
 suspiciously, keeping his hands upon his pistols. 
 
 " Quite alone," the Major replied. " I have 
 acceded to the wish of your friends, in order to 
 avert the possibility of bloodshed. Now, Mor- 
 rison, I ask you to surrender like a sensible 
 man. Your capture is only a matter of time. 
 The Government must vindicate the law, no 
 matter at what cost. Give yourself up, and i 
 
 w> 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY, 
 
 87 
 
 *> 
 
 will do what in me lies to see that you get the 
 utmost fair play in your trial. I speak to you 
 now in a friendly way. I have no personal 
 feeling in the matter. I am the instrument of 
 the law. If this pursuit is continued, there will 
 probably be bloodshed either on one side or the 
 other. You are only making your position 
 worse by holding out ; and think what it will 
 be if there is any more shooting." 
 
 " The Major speaks reasonably, Donald," 
 Morrison's friends said, " for God's sake, take 
 his advice." 
 
 " Can the Major give me the $900 of which I 
 have been defrauded, to help me to conduct my 
 defence ? " Donald asked. 
 
 " I have nothing to do with your money 
 matters whatever," the Major replied. " I can 
 make no terms with you of that nature. I am 
 here to urge your surrender on the grounds of 
 prudence, for the sake of your own interests." 
 
 " It was very kind of you, Major, to grant this 
 interview," the outlaw said, " but I can't surren- 
 der unless you can give me some promise, either 
 of money or an acquittal." 
 
 " Oh, this is absurd," the Major said. " Our 
 interview ends. Within six hours the pursuit 
 will be re-commenced. My last word to you. 
 
88 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 Morrison, is, don't make your case hopeless by 
 shooting any more." 
 
 " I will take your advice. Major. I give you 
 my word," Donald replied. 
 
 « Well, good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye, sir." 
 
 Thus ended the memorable interview. 
 
 Major Dugas drove back to Stornaway in 
 disgust. He ordered the resumption of the 
 search, and upon the following morning left for 
 Montreal. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXHI. 
 
 THE EXPEDITION IS BROKEN UP. 
 
 Donald's friends were greatly disappointed. 
 They fully expected that he would surrender 
 himself to Major Dugas. 
 
 A few days subsequent to the interview it was 
 announced that the expedition ha.d been broken 
 up. The Government had recalled all the men 
 but five, who were left in charge of Detective 
 Carpenter. 
 
 The was a tacit confession of failure. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 89 
 
 J 
 
 
 . 
 
 Thv? opposition press burst into a loud guffaw. 
 " Was this the result of a year's effort to capture 
 a criminal ? Was this the return for all the 
 expenditure which had been incurred ? " The 
 comic papers poked outrageous fun at the 
 expedition. The illustrated journals mocked it 
 in pen and ink sketches that smarted like aqua- 
 fortis. The ribald versifiers flouted it in metri- 
 cal lampoons whose burden was — " The man I 
 left behind me." 
 
 ft 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 CARPENTER ON THE SCENT- 
 ESCAPE. 
 
 -A NARROW 
 
 Carpenter had five men at his disposal, and he 
 was sanguine that an unremitting pursuit must 
 end in the capture of the outlaw. Consequently, 
 upon the removal of the bulk of the expedition, 
 he set himself to make such disposition of his 
 men as would lead to the most substantial 
 results. Where did Donald get his food ? 
 Where did he get changes of clothing? He 
 must pay visits to the houses in the neighbor- 
 hood. They had been searched in vain. Very 
 
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90 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 well. Let them be searched again. Let them 
 be persistently watched. The outlaw would be 
 tracked at last. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock at night. Dark, 
 heavy clouds hung overhead like a mournful 
 pall. A brooding darkness and silence envel- 
 oped the woods. 
 
 A figure parted the young branches, came out 
 into the open, ran stealthily along the road, 
 reached a small cottage, and disappeared 
 within it. 
 
 Donald had tempted fate at a moment when 
 fate, in the form of two eager officers of the law, 
 was closing him in. 
 
 McMahon and the Indian scout were out that 
 night. They had made a round of the cottages. 
 Fatigued and a little dispirited, they were about 
 to go back to their quarters, when a feeble 
 glimmer of light was seen through the darkness, 
 proceeding from the cottage which Donald had 
 entered. 
 
 " Is it worth while to search it ? " McMahon 
 asked his companion doubtfully. 
 
 " Well," replied the scout, " we may as well 
 take it in to wind up for the night. I don't 
 suppose we'll have any luck." 
 
 "Not likely," McMahon said. 
 
 t 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 91 
 
 Donald was eating a little plain supper, when 
 the poor honest peasant woman whose hospital- 
 ity he was sharing, thought she heard footsteps 
 outsde the door. She listened. " Donald," she 
 said, in a quick, sharp voice, " I hear footsteps. 
 They are approaching the door. It may be the 
 police. What will you do ? " 
 
 " I don't think they're about so late," Donald 
 replied carelessly, feeling nevertheless for his 
 pistols in his pockets. 
 
 " Donald, they're coming. It's the police. 
 I'm sure of it. My God, if you should be taken. 
 Here, quick ! come into this bedroom, and lie 
 quiet under the bed." 
 
 Donald sprang from his seat and did as he 
 was directed. He was not a moment too soon. 
 
 The police knocked smartly at the door. 
 
 The woman opened it. 
 
 " Have you got Morrison here ? " McMahon 
 asked. 
 
 " Look and see," the woman replied. 
 
 The two men searched the four rooms of the 
 small house, and then they sat down upon the 
 bed beneath which, close to the wall, Donald 
 was concealed ! 
 
 " There's no use in stopping here," Leroyer 
 said. 
 
92 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 " No," replied McMahon, " we may as well 
 go." As he spoke he carelessly ran the butt end 
 of his rifle under the bed ! 
 
 Donald grew to the wall, and held his breath ! 
 
 The rifle conveyed no sense of contact. It 
 was thrust in without conscious motive. 
 
 The police took their departure. 
 
 " What a narrow escape ! " Donald said, when 
 he had emerged from his hiding-place. His face 
 showed pale beneath the bronze. The per- 
 spiration stood in beads upon his brow. 
 
 The friendly creature who sheltered him 
 trembled like an aspen. 
 
 She had expected discovery, arrest, perhaps 
 even bloodshed. She felt all a woman's exag- 
 gerated horror of police, and law, and violence. 
 
 " Forgive me," Donald said, " for coming near 
 the house. I'll not trouble you again." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ANOTHER TRUCE ASKED FOR. 
 
 The friends of the outlaw made a last effort 
 to bring about an accommodation. A noted 
 lawyer in Toronto had been written to, and had 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 93 
 
 
 
 >li 
 
 offered to defend him. They went to Donald, 
 showed him the letter, and peremptorily insisted 
 that he should give himself up, or be content to 
 have all his friends desert him. 
 
 Perhaps the outlaw realized at last how 
 severely he had tried his friends' patience. 
 
 " Very well," he said, " I agree to give myself 
 up. Tell the police, and get them to suspend 
 operations. Come back here and let me know 
 what they say." 
 
 Detective Carpenter was seen, and the situa- 
 tion explained to him. 
 
 " Well," said he, " I don't believe in truces 
 with outlaws. This thing has lasted long 
 enough. But if you can rely upon this new 
 attitude of the outlaw's, I would not be averse 
 to a short suspension, though, if my men meet 
 him before your next interview, they will cer- 
 tainly do their best to capture him." 
 
 Carpenter had placed two men — McMahon 
 and Pete Leroyer (an Indian scout) — close to 
 the outlaw's home, and told them to watch for 
 him entering, and capture him at all hazards. 
 
 Carpenter knew that Donald must get his 
 changes of clothing at his father's, and that a 
 strict watch would sooner or later be rewarded. 
 
94 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SHOTS IN THE DARKNESS— DONALD IS 
 
 CAPTURED. 
 
 It was about eight o'clock on Sunday even- 
 ing. McMahon and Leroyer had watched all 
 through Saturday night and all through Sunday 
 close to the house, hidden from view in the 
 bush. They were wetted through with the 
 snow ; they were cold and hungry. 
 
 In the gathering darkness two men passed 
 them, knocked at the cottage door and entered. 
 
 "Did you see who they were?" McMahon 
 asked. 
 
 " No," said his companion. " But see ! they 
 have lit the lamp ; I'll creep forward and look 
 through." 
 
 The scout crept towards the window on his 
 hands and knees. He was as lithe and stealthy 
 as a panther. He raised his head and looked 
 in. " My God, it's Morrison," he said to himself, 
 as he crept back to his companion. 
 
 " It's Morrison," he said in an eager whisper. 
 " I saw him sitting on a chair, talking to his 
 mother. We have him when he comes out. 
 How'U we take him ? " 
 
 it 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 95 
 
 n 
 
 J 
 
 " We must call upon him to surrender, and if 
 he refuses we must fire so as to lame, but not to 
 hurt him." 
 
 At the moment that the glowing eyes of the 
 scout looked in through the window, Donald 
 was sitting on a chair in the middle of the floor 
 talking to his mother, who was filling a bottle of 
 milk for him. 
 
 " I'm to meet M in the morning in the 
 
 woods, and then I'm going to surrender. The 
 police by this time know my intention." 
 
 " You have acted wisely, Donald," his mother 
 said. " We will all see that you get a fair trial. 
 My poor hunted boy, what have you suffered 
 during the past twelve months. Anything 
 would be better than this. You are liable to be 
 caught at any moment — perhaps shot." 
 
 " Have no fear, mother, on that score. I hope 
 I am acting for the best in giving myself up." 
 
 " I'm sure you are, Donald. Here's your 
 bottle of milk and your blanket." 
 
 " I don't know what may happen before we 
 meet again, mother. Good-bye," and he bent 
 down and kissed her withered face. 
 
 He opened the door, and went out into the 
 darkness. 
 
f)*^ 
 
 96 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 " Throw up your hands," a ringing voice 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " My God, I'm betrayed at last," Donald mut- 
 tered, as he leaped the fence close to the house, 
 and made a straight line for the woods. 
 
 McMahon and the scout leaped from their 
 concealment, followed hard upon the fugitive, 
 and fired repeatedly at him from their revolvers. 
 
 Could he escape ? 
 
 He had fronted worse perils than this. Would 
 fortune still smile upon him, or, deserting him in 
 the moment of supreme need, leave him to 
 destiny ? The darkness favored him. The 
 dense woods were near. Would he be able to 
 reach them in safety ? 
 
 McMahon and Leroyer, by simply going 
 up to the door, and grasping the outlaw firmly 
 the moment he came out, might have made the 
 capture in a perfectly certain though common- 
 place manner. Both might be forgiven, how- 
 ever, for a little nervousness and excitement. 
 The prize was within their grasp. For this 
 moment they had lain out in the snow, wet and 
 hungry. Brought suddenly face to face with 
 the moment, the moment was a little too big 
 for them. Neither of the pursuers aimed very 
 steadily. They grasped their revolvers, and 
 made red punctures in the night. 
 
THE CANADIAN ROB ROY. 
 
 97 
 
 What was that ? A cry of pain. 
 
 The pursuers came up, and saw a figure totter 
 and fall at their feet. 
 
 " You have caught me at last," Donald said ; 
 " but had the truce been kept, you never could 
 have taken me." 
 
 The outlaw was wrapped in blankets and 
 conveyed to Sherbrooke prison, and the follow- 
 ing morning the papers announced all over the 
 Dominion that " Donald Morrison, the famous 
 outlaw, who had defied every effort of the 
 Government for twelve months, had been cap- 
 tured, after having been severely wounded in the 
 hip by a revolver shot." 
 
 In the jail Donald said — " I was taken by 
 
 treachery." 
 
 But the outlaw had been secured ! 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It was dreadfully unromantic, but Minnie did 
 not fall into a decline. She is alive and 
 well at this moment. Life may be over, and 
 yet we may live functionally through long stag- 
 nant years. Life is not a calendar of dates, but 
 of feelings. Minnie will live a calm, chastened 
 life. She cannot love again ; but she is not 
 soured by her experience. She will be one of 
 
•^ir 
 
 98 
 
 DONALD MORRISON, 
 
 those rare old maids who are so sweet and 
 wholesome that even youth, hot and impatient, 
 tenders cordial homage to them. 
 
 Minnie braves her sorrow bravely. To look 
 at her one would not suspect that she had ever 
 passed through deep suffering. Disappointment 
 and loss either curl the lips in bitter cynicism, 
 or give them so soft, so gracious, so touching an 
 expression, as make their caress, failing upon 
 the wretched and forsaken, a benediction. 
 When suffering steels the heart, and poises the 
 nature in an attitude of silent scorn for the 
 worst affront of fortune, it is fatal. It takes the 
 life simply. That is all. When it melts the 
 heart, pity finds a soft place, and the ministry of 
 sorrow becomes, not a phrase, but an experi- 
 ence. Very few know Minnie's secret. Her 
 parents never mention the name of Donald 
 Morrison. She quietly goes about her modest 
 duties, and the few poor old people in the village 
 left desolate in their old age, when the shadows 
 lengthen, and the gloom of -the long night is 
 gathering, find that she has 
 
 "A tear for pity, 
 And a hand open as day for melting charity." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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