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diff --git a/9331-h/9331-h.htm b/9331-h/9331-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56269c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/9331-h/9331-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3316 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Hunted Outlaw, by Anonymous + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hunted Outlaw, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hunted Outlaw + Donald Morrison, The Canadian Rob Roy + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: August 6, 2009 [EBook #9331] +Last Updated: January 15, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED OUTLAW *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and +PG Distributed Proofreaders from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE HUNTED OUTLAW + </h1> + <h4> + OR + </h4> + <h2> + DONALD MORRISON, THE CANADIAN ROB ROY + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Anonymous + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + <i>"Truth is stranger than Fiction."</i> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE. </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> DONALD MORRISON + APPEARS ON THE SCENE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. + </a> A LITTLE GIRL WITH YELLOW HAIR <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> "MINNIE, MINNIE," SHE + SAID, "I MUST GUARD MY SECRET." <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> + CHAPTER V. </a> LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> "SUCH PARTINGS AS + CRUSH THE LIFE OUT OF YOUNG HEARTS." <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> + CHAPTER VII. </a> "TO THE WEST, TO THE WEST, THE LAND OF THE + FREE." <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> HARD + TIMES AT HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> "BE IT + EVER SO HUMBLE, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME." <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> "THE PRIDE OF THE + VILLAGE." <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> MODEST, + SIMPLE, SWEET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> A + LETTER FROM DONALD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE + BEGINNING OF THE TROUBLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. + </a> A SHOT IN THE DARKNESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> + CHAPTER XVI. </a> "BURNT A HOLE IN THE NIGHT." <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> SUSPICION FALLS UPON + DONALD, AND A WARRANT IS ISSUED AGAINST HIM <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> HE THOUGHT OF HIS + WIFE AND FAMILY, AND HE RETURNED TO SHERBROOKE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE TRAGEDY <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> AFTERWARDS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE BLOW FALLS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> WHAT + WAS DONALD ABOUT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> ACTION + OF THE PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT.—FIVE OFFICERS SENT TO MEGANTIC <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> TELLS HOW THE + CONSTABLES ENJOYED THEMSELVES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> + CHAPTER XXV. </a> PROOF AGAINST BRIBES! <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> THE REWARD FAILS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> THE + HUNTED OUTLAW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> DONALD + IN THE WOODS OF MEGANTIC <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER + XXX. </a> SECOND WEEK OF THE SEARCH—MAJOR DUGAS BECOMES + SEVERE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> "MANY + WATERS CANNOT QUENCH LOVE." <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER + XXXII. </a> MAJOR DUGAS MEETS THE OUTLAW FACE TO FACE—A + UNIQUE INTERVIEW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. + </a> THE EXPEDITION IS BROKEN UP <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> CARPENTER ON THE + SCENT—A NARROW ESCAPE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER + XXXV. </a> ANOTHER TRUCE ASKED FOR <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> SHOTS IN THE + DARKNESS—DONALD IS CAPTURED <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <a + href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PROLOGUE. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A crime startles the community. The perpetrator is educated, wise, enjoys + the respect of his fellows. His position is high: his home is happy: he + has no enemies. + </p> + <p> + Psychology is stunned. The deed is incredible. 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. + </p> + <p> + The tabulation is at fault. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Life begins with the fairest promise, and ends in darkness. + </p> + <p> + It is the unexpected that stuns us. + </p> + <p> + Heredity, environment and temperament lead us into easy calculations of + assured repose and strength, and permanency of mental and moral + equilibrium. + </p> + <p> + The act of a moment makes sardonic mockery of all our predictions. + </p> + <p> + The whole mentality is not computable. + </p> + <p> + Look searchingly at happiness, and note with sadness that a tear stains + her cheek. + </p> + <p> + A dark, sinister thread runs through the web of life. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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." <i>Gray</i>. +</pre> + <p> + 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, innocence open-eyed, and vice almost unknown. + Science has not upset their belief in Jehovah. God is real, and somewhat + stern, and the minister is his servant, to be heard with respect, 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 relation 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. + </p> + <p> + The common school is a log hut, built by the wayside, and the "schoolmarm" + is not a pretentious person. But, what the school cannot supply, a long + line of intelligent, independent ancestors have supplied, robust, common + sense and sagacity. + </p> + <p> + Something of the gloom and sternness of the forest, something of the + sadness which is a conscious 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 a + little farming and a little lumbering. They get food and clothing, they + are 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, probably forming their deepest absorptions. It remains only + to be said that, passionately attached to the customs, the habits of + thought of their forefathers, the Highlanders of the Lake Megantic 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 had thrown himself upon their mercy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. DONALD MORRISON APPEARS ON THE SCENE. + </h2> + <p> + Life, could we only be well assured of it, is at the best when it is + simple. The woods of Lake Megantic in the summer cast a spell upon the + spirit. They are calm and serene, and just a little sad. They invite to + rest, and their calm strength and deep silence are a powerful rebuke to + passion. + </p> + <p> + 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 masterful, his little girl school-mates adored + him. They adored him all the more that he thought it beneath his boyish + dignity to pay them attention. This is true to all experience. Donald was + passionate. 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 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. A LITTLE GIRL WITH YELLOW HAIR. + </h2> + <p> + 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 summer 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 schoolmate had used + towards her, by soundly thrashing the urchin who uttered it. Minnie pitied + the lad, but she secretly adored Donald. He was her hero. Donald was good + enough to patronize her. Minnie was too humble to resent this attitude. + Was he not handsome and strong, with fearless blue eyes; were not all her + little girl companions jealous of her? Did he not go to and come from + school with her and carry her books? Above all, had he not done battle in + her behalf? + </p> + <p> + Minnie Duncan was the only daughter of John and Mary Duncan, who lived + close to the Morrisons', upon a comfortable farm. She was dearly loved, + and she returned the affection bestowed upon her with the beautiful <i>abandon</i> + of that epoch when the tide of innocent trust and love is at the full. + They had never expressed 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. "MINNIE, MINNIE," SHE SAID, "I MUST GUARD MY SECRET." + </h2> + <p> + 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 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 working + 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 beginning 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 stagnation? The woods—yes, the woods were + beautiful, but why was it they made him sad? Why was it that when the sun + set against the background 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 world of real men and women, where joy + and suffering, and the extremest force of passion had active play. + </p> + <p> + 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 experienced 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 had 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 would be all wiped away? Sorrow! Oh, yes, + there was sorrow here, and somehow, the 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, innocent love, and of calm life, without cloud, + blessed by the smile of heaven. + </p> + <p> + 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 languor that steeps the senses, the sudden trembling to which no + name can be given. Minnie was in love. The hero of her childhood was the + hero of her womanhood. She loved 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." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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." +</pre> + <p> + 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. They had walked out together in the summer evenings, and both + had felt the influence of the white moonlight which steeped the trees + along the Marsden road. They had, so to say, appropriated 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps I feel too that it is a little dull, 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 dullness all the + more keenly." + </p> + <p> + "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 cannot 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!" + </p> + <p> + She could not look at him, for tears blinded her, but she said, simply, + "Oh, Donald, I have loved you since childhood." + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Don't tremble, darling," he said, after a long silence. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Donald, I can't help it. What is this feeling? What does it mean?" + </p> + <p> + It was unconscious passion! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. "SUCH PARTINGS AS CRUSH THE LIFE OUT OF YOUNG HEARTS." + </h2> + <p> + Donald had made up his mind to go West In vain his parents dissuaded him. + </p> + <p> + Young love is hopeful, and Donald had pictured reunion in such attractive + guise, that Minnie was half reconciled to his departure. + </p> + <p> + But the parting was sad. + </p> + <p> + Donald had spent the last evening at Minnie's parents. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Minnie said, through her sobs, "God bless you, Donald." + </p> + <p> + He tore himself away! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. "TO THE WEST, TO THE WEST, THE LAND OF THE FREE." + </h2> + <h3> + "Bully for Donald!" + </h3> + <p> + "Thar ain't no flies on him, boys, is thar?" + </p> + <p> + "Warn't it neat?" + </p> + <p> + "Knocked him out in one round, too!" 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. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas a rough life, and he knew it. He mixed but little with the "Boys," + but the latter respected 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + "Shorty" had a pretty daughter, who was as much out of place amid her + coarse surroundings as violets in a coal mine. + </p> + <p> + She was quite honest, and she served her father's customers with modesty. + Kitty—that was her name—secretly admired the handsome Donald, + who had always treated her with respect upon the infrequent occasions of + his visits. + </p> + <p> + On this night, while the party were at cards, "Wild Dick" Minton entered. + He was a desperado, and it was said that he had killed at least two men in + his time. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + Kitty served him with the drink. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Kitty," he said with coarse gallantry, "looking sort o' purty + to-night, eh? Say, gimme a kiss, won't yer?" + </p> + <p> + Kitty blushed crimson with anger, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Wild Dick" got up and took her chin in his hand. + </p> + <p> + "How dare you?" she said, stamping her foot with indignation. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Donald, who had been watching his behaviour with increasing + disgust and 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Kitty stood rooted to the spot, expecting to see her defender fall at her + feet with a bullet through his brain or heart. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he dealt him a straight blow in the face that felled him like an ox. + </p> + <p> + Dick rose to his feet with murder in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet, muttered something about <i>his</i> time coming, and + slunk out. + </p> + <p> + Donald's victory over "Wild Dick," who was regarded as a bully, was hailed + in the exclamations which head this chapter. + </p> + <p> + Donald never provoked a quarrel, but, once engaged, he generally came out + victorious. + </p> + <p> + His prowess soon became bruited abroad, and he had the goodwill of all the + wild fellows of that wild region. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. HARD TIMES AT HOME. + </h2> + <p> + Life is hard in the Megantic district. A very small portion of the land is + susceptible of cultivation. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "I wish Donald would come home," the old man frequently muttered. "I wish + he would," his mother would say, and then she would cry softly to herself. + </p> + <p> + Poverty is always unlovely. + </p> + <p> + Too often it is crime! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, + And fondly broods with miser care." +</pre> + <p> + "DEAREST DONALD,—I received your kind letter. That you are doing + well, and saving money for the purpose you speak of, it is pleasant 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. Sometimes 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "God bless you, dearest. + </p> + <p> + "Your own + </p> + <p> + "MINNIE." + </p> + <p> + Donald read this letter thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + "My father going to the bad, and Minnie going away," he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He rose from his seat, and walked the narrow room in which he lodged. + </p> + <p> + "I will go home," he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. "BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME." + </h2> + <p> + Donald Morrison is back to the simple life of Marsden again. Five years + had changed him enormously. His figure had always promise of athletic + suppleness. It was now splendidly compact. He left the type of the + conventional farmer. He returned the picturesque embodiment of the far + West. Perhaps, in his long locks, wide sombrero, undressed leggings, and + prodigal display of shooting irons, there may have been a theatrical + suggestion of Buffalo Bill. + </p> + <p> + 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 farmer's son in Marsden, Gould, + Stornaway, and Lake Megantic, envied Donald that easy swaggering 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. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Donald, Donald, my dear son!" + </p> + <p> + Withered arms were round his neck, and loving lips pressed his cheek. + </p> + <p> + 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 + unannounced. 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. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother," said Donald, tenderly returning 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." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I wish you would, Donald," the old mother replied, with moist eyes. + "Your father wants you home, and I want you home. We're now getting old + and feeble. We won't be long here. Remain with us to the close." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Donald, my man, welcome back," a hearty voice cried. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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 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." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE." + </h2> + <p> + 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 was + well for the host that the palates of his guests had not been corrupted by + the "mixed drinks" of the cities. He steadily dispensed 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 great energy, + while in the centre of the room a strapping young fellow was keeping time + to the music. + </p> + <p> + The piper paused, and drew a long breath. The dancer resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + "I say, boys," said one of the party, "have you seen Donald Morrison since + he came home?" + </p> + <p> + Oh, yes, they had all seen him. + </p> + <p> + "What do you think of him?" the first speaker asked. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "He'd be an ugly customer in a row," remarked a fourth speaker. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + The previous speaker appeared to be a bit of 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." + </p> + <p> + "By the way," interposed the first speaker, "did you hear that Donald and + his father had a dispute about the money which Donald advanced when he was + away, and that legal proceedings are threatened?" + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + The young man said these words earnestly enough, no doubt. He had no idea + he was uttering a prophecy. + </p> + <p> + How surprised we are sometimes to find that our commonplaces have been + verified by fate, with all the added emphasis of tragedy! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. MODEST, SIMPLE, SWEET. + </h2> + <h3> + Minnie is in her new home in Springfield. + </h3> + <p> + Springfield is a village set at the base of a series 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 dullness of the + guide-book makers and topographists has still left us here and there + serene bits of nature. + </p> + <p> + 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 champagne 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 + associations of childhood, and the more vivid and precious associations of + her early womanhood, crowded upon her that last day. Donald occupied the + chief place in her thoughts. He was far away. Should they ever meet again? + Should their sweet companionships ever be renewed? + </p> + <p> + The cares of her new home won her back to content. + </p> + <p> + 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 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. + </p> + <p> + At least death is merciful. It said to the widow—"Come, end the + struggle. Close your eyes, and I will put you to sleep." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. A LETTER FROM DONALD. + </h2> + <p> + 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 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 commonplace + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 mountain, she was + soon climbing to the latter's summit. + </p> + <p> + 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 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She began to sing softly to herself— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Thou'lt break my heart thou warbling bird, + That wantons through the flowering thorn; + Thou 'minds me o' departed joys, + Departed—never to return." +</pre> + <p> + 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 healing, 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. + </p> + <p> + Poor Minnie, she sang the lines of "Bonnie, Doon," all unconscious that + they would ever have any relation to her experience. + </p> + <p> + But Minnie would bear her grief, and say, "God is love." + </p> + <p> + She had never subscribed to a creed, and although Mill and Huxley were + strangers to her, her whole nature protested against any system of which + violence was one of the factors. + </p> + <p> + Minnie was simply good. When she encountered 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + That was a testimonial of fine ethical value. + </p> + <p> + "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 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." + </p> + <p> + The world wants not so much learned, as simple, modest, reverent women, to + sweeten and redeem it! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE BEGINNING OF THE TROUBLE. + </h2> + <p> + We will not afflict the reader with all the complexities of a dispute + which for months exercised the Press, the people, and the Government 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. + </p> + <p> + Certain large features, necessary to the development of the story, will be + recapitulated. + </p> + <p> + Poverty has few alleviations. Where it exists 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. + </p> + <p> + The latter advanced a certain sum of money upon a note. In the + transactions which occurred between Donald and the money-lender the former + alleged over-reaching. + </p> + <p> + An appeal was made to the law. + </p> + <p> + 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 partaken of his hospitality. + </p> + <p> + Then the law intervenes, and revives passions whose fires were almost out. + Before Donald's case came on, he sold the farm to the money-lender. + </p> + <p> + Donald claimed that the latter, in the transaction of a mortgage prior to + the sale, and in the terms of the sale itself, had cheated him out of + $900. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The money-lender re-sold the farm to a French family named Duquette. + </p> + <p> + Popular sympathy is not analytical. It grasps large features. It overlooks + minutiæ. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "There would be trouble." + </p> + <p> + "Donald had a determined look. Duquette made a mistake in taking the farm. + The cowboys in the North-West held life rather cheap." + </p> + <p> + So the old people said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. A SHOT IN THE DARKNESS. + </h2> + <h3> + The Duquettes took possession of the farm. + </h3> + <p> + They were quiet, inoffensive people. + </p> + <p> + Donald had been seen moving about between Marsden and Lake Megantic + wearing an air of disquietude. + </p> + <p> + Something was impending. In a vague way the people felt that something + sinister was going to happen. + </p> + <p> + '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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. Who fired the + shot? And what was the motive? Was it intended that the bullet should + kill, or only alarm? + </p> + <p> + Was it intended that the Duquettes should recognize the desirability of + vacating the farm? + </p> + <p> + Who fired the shot? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. "BURNT A HOLE IN THE NIGHT." + </h2> + <p> + 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 considerations 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 + environment is seized upon with great avidity. That shot was felt to be + ominous. Was it the prologue to the tragedy? There was to be something + more than that shot. + </p> + <p> + What was it? + </p> + <p> + Would anything else happen, and when would it happen? + </p> + <p> + The villagers were not kept long in suspense. + </p> + <p> + A few nights afterwards there was a lurid glare in the sky. + </p> + <p> + It was red, and sinister, and quivering. + </p> + <p> + What could it mean? + </p> + <p> + Was it a celestial portent which thus wrote itself upon the face of the + heavens? + </p> + <p> + The villagers assembled in alarm. + </p> + <p> + "Why, it's Duquette's place on fire!" + </p> + <p> + Yes, the homestead had been fired, and the conflagration made a red, + ragged hole in the blackness of the night! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. SUSPICION FALLS UPON DONALD, AND A WARRANT IS ISSUED AGAINST + HIM. + </h2> + <h3> + This was the second act in the drama. + </h3> + <p> + The situations were strong and in bold relief. Would the interest deepen + in dramatic accrument? + </p> + <p> + Donald was generally suspected; but he had commenced to experience that + sympathy which was to withstand all attempts of the Government to shake it—attempts + which appealed alternately to fears and cupidity. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + To understand the strength of the feeling of clannishness in this district + one must reside amongst the people. + </p> + <p> + Donald was suspected, as we have said, and a warrant was made out against + him on the charge of arson. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. HE THOUGHT OF HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, AND HE RETURNED TO + SHERBROOKE. + </h2> + <h3> + "Good morning, Mr. A——." + </h3> + <p> + "Good morning, Mr. L——. A lovely morning." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, indeed." + </p> + <p> + "Are you going far?" + </p> + <p> + "I am going to Marsden. By the way, have you seen Donald Morrison lately?" + </p> + <p> + "I saw him yesterday. Why do you ask?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I may tell you that I have a warrant to arrest him on a charge of + arson." + </p> + <p> + Mr. L—— looked very thoughtful. "Do you know the kind of man + you have to deal with?" + </p> + <p> + "I have heard a good deal about him, especially since he returned from the + West. But why do you ask?" + </p> + <p> + "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——?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "You have a family?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Take my advice," said Mr. L—— impressively. "Don't try to + execute this warrant. Go straight back to Sherbrooke." + </p> + <p> + "But my duty," said Mr. A—— irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + "Where could you find Morrison, anyway? And if you did find him, and + attempted to execute the warrant, I tell you," said Mr. L————, + with great earnestness, "there would be bloodshed." + </p> + <p> + Mr. A————- thought a moment, held out his hand to + Mr. L————-, and turned his face towards + Sherbrooke. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE TRAGEDY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MACBETH—"I have done the deed. This is a sorry sight." +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Warren had been sworn in as a special constable 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. We have + already said that Donald always went armed. Sometimes he carried a rifle: + more generally a couple of six-shooters. + </p> + <p> + Warren was in the hotel drinking. It was about noon on a beautiful day in + June. + </p> + <p> + One of the villagers rushed into the bar. + </p> + <p> + "Here's Morrison coming down the street," he said, in a tone of + excitement. + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Warren, "this is my chance." + </p> + <p> + "You daren't arrest him," a by-stander said. + </p> + <p> + "Daren't I, by ——," he replied. "Here, give me a drink of + whiskey." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Warren went over and intercepted him. + </p> + <p> + "You've got to come with me," said Warren, pulling out the warrant. + </p> + <p> + "Let me pass," Donald replied in firm, commanding tones, "I want to have + nothing to do with you." + </p> + <p> + "But, by ——, I have something to do with you," Warren angrily + retorted. "You have got to come with me, dead or alive." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" Donald demanded, while his right hand sought his hip + pocket. + </p> + <p> + "I mean what I say," Warren replied, fast losing control over himself. + Pulling out his revolver, he covered Donald, and commanded him to + surrender. + </p> + <p> + About a dozen people watched the scene in front of the hotel, chained to + the spot with a species of horrible fascination. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Warren, with his pistol at full cock in his hand, fell back—dead! + </p> + <p> + The bullet had entered the brain through the temple. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Warren lay in a pool of blood, a ghastly spectacle. Some poor mother had + once held this man to her breast, and shed tears of joy or sorrow over + him! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. AFTERWARDS. + </h2> + <p> + 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 only 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. + </p> + <p> + The people deplored the act. But they did not feel justified in handing + Donald over to justice. + </p> + <p> + The news of the terrible tragedy spread. The papers got hold of the story, + and made the most of it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE BLOW FALLS. + </h2> + <h3> + "Father, father, what is the matter? What ails you?" + </h3> + <p> + Mr. Minton had taken up the paper after breakfast. He had glanced + carelessly down the columns. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The editorials were dull, and the news meagre. Suddenly, he came across + a large heading—"DREADFUL TRAGEDY!" +He read a few lines, and then uttered a cry of horror. He threw down the +paper, and looked at Minnie. It was a look of anguish. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + This is what the eye, with a constantly augmenting expression of + fearfulness, conveyed to the brain:— + </p> + <p> + "DREADFUL TRAGEDY.—About mid-day yesterday one of the most fearful + tragedies ever enacted in this province, indeed in Canada, took 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, suspicion at once fell upon Donald. A warrant, charging him + with arson, was sworn out against him, and a man named Warren undertook to + execute 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 surrender. 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 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 excitement 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 fellowship. 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 Marsden 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." + </p> + <p> + Minnie read this account through to the end. She 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. + </p> + <p> + Minnie read the article, threw down the paper, and rushed to her room. She + flung herself 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!" + </p> + <p> + 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 assurance 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 <i>was</i> + true Donald <i>had</i> killed a man. The report could not lie so + circumstantially. 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 + <i>would</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + When thought was in some degree restored, she sat down and wrote the + following letter:— + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Donald, Donald, what have I read in the papers? Is it true? Is it + true? + </p> + <p> + "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 + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Oh, what was love made for if 'tis not the same + Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame." +</pre> + <p> + "Your broken hearted + </p> + <p> + "MINNIE." <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. WHAT WAS DONALD ABOUT. + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," he said, with terrible calmness, when he entered the door, "I + have killed Warren." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Morrison looked at him vaguely. She did not comprehend. + </p> + <p> + "Warren wanted to arrest me this morning in Megantic, and because I + refused to go with him he pulled out a pistol, as I thought, to shoot me. + I fired at him. The shot killed him." + </p> + <p> + 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!" + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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 pursuit ever + be dangerous." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Donald walked about as usual. He had repeated to his immediate friends + every circumstance 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + In vain his friends urged flight. He was inflexible on this point. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>some</i> degree, have accounted for the + civility with which he was everywhere greeted. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + In his reply to Minnie, Donald described the tragic scene with which the + reader is familiar, deplored the occurrence, but, with great earnestness, + 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 Sunday + 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." + </p> + <p> + We quote this passage merely in confirmation of our statement that Donald + felt perfectly free to go abroad after the tragedy, and to participate in + the social life of the village. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. ACTION OF THE PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT.—FIVE OFFICERS + SENT TO MEGANTIC. + </h2> + <p> + To the common mind government is something vast, mysterious, and powerful. + It is associated 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 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, <i>en famille</i>, 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 <i>that</i>, you begin to doubt the saving efficacy of the + ballot box. + </p> + <p> + 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, or 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. + </p> + <p> + The Government of Quebec is the Hon. Honoré Mercier. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mercier is like the first Napoleon. He chooses <i>tools</i> to assist, + not strong individualities to oppose, him. + </p> + <p> + 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 to the + teeth, and threatening death to the man who should attempt to take him. It + was generally agreed that this was a scandal. But the opposition journals + made political capital out of the affair. + </p> + <p> + "What! was this the Mercier Government? Was this the sort of law and order + we were promised under his <i>régime</i>? 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 + undertake 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?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mercier's reply to the party Press was to send down five special + constables to Megantic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. TELLS HOW THE CONSTABLES ENJOYED THEMSELVES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CAESAR—"Let me have men about me that are fat— + Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights." +</pre> + <p> + The five constables that Mr. Mercier sent down to Megantic put up in the + village hotel. + </p> + <p> + Within an hour Donald had received the following note:— + </p> + <p> + "Dear Donald,—Action at last. Five men from Quebec after you. Keep + away from Marsden for a day or so. I don't think there 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" + </p> + <p> + 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. The + constables were fat, phlegmatic, and anything but heroic. What they had + been accustomed to was an unexciting and steady beat in the drowsy old + city of Quebec, and small but unfailingly regular drinks of whiskey <i>blanc</i>. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. They might have found him half-a-dozen + times a day. They never once crossed the threshold of the woods. + </p> + <p> + Did not this terrible character know every tangled path, and might he not + open fire upon them without being seen? + </p> + <p> + The country roads are really white lines through the green of the woods. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "We have been here a month now," said the officer in charge, in French, + "and we have accomplished 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?" + </p> + <p> + With one accord, the four subordinates answered "None." + </p> + <p> + "Suppose he were here," and the officer halted on his step, "how—What + is that? Did you hear anything?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said one of the constables timorously, "I heard a noise in the + brushwood." + </p> + <p> + "Suppose it were Morrison?" + </p> + <p> + And they looked at each other apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + "We will return," said the officer. "It is probably a bear. If I thought + it were Morrison, I would enter the wood," he said valorously. When they + were gone, a brown face peeped out. It was Donald. "They're scared," he + said to himself, laughing. "Not much danger from <i>them</i>. I don't + believe they would know me. I'll test it." + </p> + <p> + 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 brushwood, 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 afterwards, 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. + </p> + <p> + The opposition papers jeered at the failure of the expedition. Ridicule is + the most 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 + acquirement. Still, the perception of humor is fairly general. Don't argue + with your opponent, 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 handkerchief, and retire to the privacy of its family. Mr. Mercier is + sensitive to ridicule. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mercier withdrew that expedition, and offered $3,000 reward for the + capture of Morrison! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. PROOF AGAINST BRIBES! + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "A man's a man for a' that." +</pre> + <p> + It was now that Donald was to prove that integrity which for ages has been + so noble an attribute of the Highlander. + </p> + <p> + 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 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, and these + notes either reached him at a given rendezvous in the woods, or at the + houses where he passed the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. THE REWARD FAILS. + </h2> + <p> + 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 had friends to inform him of every movement, and the woods to + retreat to. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + Did the Government intend to allow this man to defy the law? If it did, + was this not putting a premium upon crime? If it did not, what steps did + it intend to take to secure his arrest? Thus far the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <h3> + THE GOVERNMENT TAKES OFF ITS COAT. + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 States. 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. How would it be when, behind + iron bars, and hope cut off, they <i>could</i> not be kept?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mercier felt that if the Government was not to suffer serious loss of + <i>prestige</i>, it must adopt heroic measures. + </p> + <p> + 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!" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE HUNTED OUTLAW. + </h2> + <h3> + The expedition arrived in Stornaway upon a raw morning in April. + </h3> + <p> + Donald knew all that could be learned within an hour. + </p> + <p> + "I must be careful now," he said. "Well, if they can follow me through the + woods on snowshoes, they're welcome to begin the pursuit." + </p> + <p> + Major Dugas' capacity was largely magisterial. He had the supreme + direction of the men, indeed, but the carrying out of the movements was to + be entrusted to the High Constable. 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 disagreeable it may be to me, I + must arrest all suspected of helping him in any way." + </p> + <p> + At first the people were sullen. They resented the incursion of an armed + force. Among the party was Sergeant Clarke, who brought his 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 nevertheless they did not abate one jot of what they called + their loyalty to Donald. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The expedition was divided into three parties. To cordon the woods would + have required an army. The points covered were Stornaway (Major Dugas' + headquarters), Gould and Marsden. Photographs of the outlaw were obtained + and distributed among the men. The roads were mud, and the woods filled + with soft snow. Infinite difficulty was experienced at every turn. The men + were not prepared for roughing it. They required long boots and snowshoes. + They had neither. Detective Carpenter, 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. DONALD IN THE WOODS OF MEGANTIC. + </h2> + <p> + 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 indescribable 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 summits. 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 + environments 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 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 convince one that to penetrate into their midst is + by no means a safe venture. + </p> + <p> + 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 firearms, he considered his + greatest necessity. He slept well, excepting when he was awakened by the + roar of a bear or some other wild animal. Then he simply mounted a tree, + and with revolver 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 Highlanders. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. SECOND WEEK OF THE SEARCH—MAJOR DUGAS BECOMES SEVERE. + </h2> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Major Dugas was in his room at the Stornaway 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 to induce him to do so. Very well. Then they, must be + punished for conniving at his outlawry. + </p> + <p> + High Constable Bissonnette entered for orders. + </p> + <p> + "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 bloodshed. 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "All right, your honor," said the High Constable, when the Major has + signed a batch of warrants, "I will have these attended to at once." + </p> + <p> + The High Constable was as good as his word. + </p> + <p> + The prominent friends of Donald were arrested and conveyed to Sherbrooke + Jail, bail being refused. + </p> + <p> + 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 common 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 fraternize + with them in the evenings when they were gathered round the bar-room of + the village hotel. + </p> + <p> + 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 at his Father's house. He had + been seen on the edge of the wood. He had been seen to board a train bound + for Montreal. The Scotch delight in grim humor. These rumors reached the + police at their meals, and there was a scramble for firearms and a rush + for the wagons. They reached them at midnight, while they were dreaming of + terrific encounters with murderous 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. "MANY WATERS CANNOT QUENCH LOVE." + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Had we never loved sae kindly, + Had we never loved sae blindly, + Never met and never parted, + We had ne'er been broken-hearted." +</pre> + <p> + Ideal love does not ask conventional recognition. 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 + comfort, and certainty, and calm days of ease, and you make it poor and + cheap. The zest of love is uncertainty. When love has to breast the + Hellespont it feels its most impassioned thrill. Let there be distance, + and danger, and separation and tears in love. Let there be dull certainty, + and custom stales its dearest delights. + </p> + <p> + 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 progress 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 carried out without hesitation. A more + sophisticated 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 see Donald, + she could persuade him to give himself up. + </p> + <p> + 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 whereabouts. + </p> + <p> + Minnie reached Marsden in safety. It was in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + She had written a brief note to Donald, telling him that she was coming. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Donald!" + </p> + <p> + "Minnie!" + </p> + <p> + Then they shook hands. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Minnie looked at him, and the calmness which she thought she had schooled + herself to maintain deserted her. She burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + "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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + "But have you not heard," Minnie said, "that they are bringing on fifteen + more men from Quebec?" + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "And I saw in the papers," said Minnie, with a look of horror, "that if + these failed, they would employ bloodhounds against you." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + "Then, must my visit be in vain, Donald?" Minnie pleaded. + </p> + <p> + "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 companionships. 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 happened. I am an outlaw. Perhaps the + scaffold awaits me. Your love would have blessed my life. I suppose fate + would not have it so." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + Donald took Minnie's hand and wrung it hard. He bent down and kissed her + forehead. "God bless you," he said—"farewell." + </p> + <p> + Then he rushed out of the house, and disappeared from view in the woods. + </p> + <p> + It was a party of five policemen, armed with rifles. + </p> + <p> + They were too late! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. MAJOR DUGAS MEETS THE OUTLAW FACE TO FACE—A UNIQUE + INTERVIEW. + </h2> + <p> + 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. 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 manage 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When, therefore, three of Donald's firmest friends approached the Major + with the proposition 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 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. + </p> + <p> + Major Dugas hesitated for a long time, but finally accepted the terms. He + was severely blamed in the press for parleying with an outlaw. Whatever + maybe said about the wisdom of the arrangement, in scrupulously observing + the terms of it, Major Dugas acted like a gentleman 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "You are alone, Major Dugas," Donald said suspiciously, keeping his hands + upon his pistols. + </p> + <p> + "Quite alone," the Major replied. "I have acceded to the wish of your + friends, in order to avert the possibility of bloodshed. Now, Morrison, 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 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." + </p> + <p> + "The Major speaks reasonably, Donald," Morrison's friends said, "for God's + sake, take his advice." + </p> + <p> + "Can the Major give me the $900 of which I have been defrauded, to help me + to conduct my defence?" Donald asked. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "It was very kind of you, Major, to grant this interview," the outlaw + said, "but I can't surrender unless you can give me some promise, either + of money or an acquittal." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, this is absurd," the Major said. "Our interview ends. Within six + hours the pursuit will be recommenced. My last word to you, Morrison, is, + don't make your case hopeless by shooting any more." + </p> + <p> + "I will take your advice, Major. I give you my word," Donald replied. + </p> + <p> + "Well, good-bye." + </p> + <p> + "Good-bye, sir." + </p> + <p> + Thus ended the memorable interview. + </p> + <p> + Major Dugas drove back to Stornaway in disgust. He ordered the resumption + of the search, and upon the following morning left for Montreal. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE EXPEDITION IS BROKEN UP. + </h2> + <p> + Donald's friends were greatly disappointed. They fully expected that he + would surrender himself to Major Dugas. + </p> + <p> + A few days subsequent to the interview it was announced that the + expedition had been broken up. The Government had recalled all the men but + five, who were left in charge of Detective Carpenter. + </p> + <p> + There was a tacit confession of failure. + </p> + <p> + The 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 aquafortis. The ribald versifiers flouted it in + metrical lampoons whose burden was—"The man I left behind me." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. CARPENTER ON THE SCENT—A NARROW ESCAPE. + </h2> + <p> + 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 <i>must</i> + pay visits to the houses in the neighborhood. They had been searched in + vain. Very well. Let them be searched again. Let them be persistently + watched. The outlaw would be tracked at last. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten o'clock at night. Dark, heavy clouds hung overhead like a + mournful pall. A brooding darkness and silence enveloped the woods. + </p> + <p> + A figure parted the young branches, came out into the open, ran stealthily + along the road, reached a small cottage, and disappeared within it. + </p> + <p> + Donald had tempted fate at a moment when fate, in the form of two eager + officers of the law, was closing him in. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "Is it worth while to search it?" McMahon asked his companion doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "Not likely," McMahon said. Donald was eating a little plain supper, when + the poor honest peasant woman whose hospitality he was sharing, thought + she heard footsteps outside 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?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think they're about so late," Donald replied carelessly, feeling + nevertheless for his pistols in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + Donald sprang from his seat and did as he was directed. He was not a + moment too soon. + </p> + <p> + The police knocked smartly at the door. + </p> + <p> + The woman opened it. + </p> + <p> + "Have you got Morrison here?" McMahon asked. + </p> + <p> + "Look and see," the woman replied. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + "There's no use in stopping here," Leroyer said. + </p> + <p> + "No," replied McMahon, "we may as well go." As he spoke he carelessly ran + the butt end of his rifle under the bed! + </p> + <p> + Donald grew to the wall, and held his breath! + </p> + <p> + The rifle conveyed no sense of contact. It was thrust in without conscious + motive. + </p> + <p> + The police took their departure. + </p> + <p> + "What a narrow escape!" Donald said, when he had emerged from his + hiding-place. His face showed pale beneath the bronze. The perspiration + stood in beads upon his brow. + </p> + <p> + The friendly creature who sheltered him trembled like an aspen. + </p> + <p> + She had expected discovery, arrest, perhaps even bloodshed. She felt all a + woman's exaggerated horror of police, and law, and violence. + </p> + <p> + "Forgive me," Donald said, "for coming near the house. I'll not trouble + you again." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. ANOTHER TRUCE ASKED FOR. + </h2> + <p> + 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 + 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. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the outlaw realized at last how severely he had tried his friends' + patience. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + Detective Carpenter was seen, and the situation explained to him. + </p> + <p> + "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 certainly do their best to + capture him." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI. SHOTS IN THE DARKNESS—DONALD IS CAPTURED. + </h2> + <p> + It was about eight o'clock on Sunday evening. 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. + </p> + <p> + In the gathering darkness two men passed them, knocked at the cottage door + and entered. + </p> + <p> + "Did you see who they were?" McMahon asked. + </p> + <p> + "No," said his companion. "But see! they have lit the lamp; I'll creep + forward and look through." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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'll we + take him?" + </p> + <p> + "We must call upon him to surrender, and if he refuses we must fire so as + to lame, but not to hurt him." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + "Have no fear, mother, on that score. I hope I am acting for the best in + giving myself up." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure you are, Donald. Here's your bottle of milk and your blanket." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know what may happen before we meet again, mother. Good-bye," and + he bent down and kissed her withered face. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door, and went out into the darkness. "Throw up your hands," + a ringing voice exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + "My God, I'm betrayed at last," Donald muttered, as he leaped the fence + close to the house, and made a straight line for the woods. + </p> + <p> + McMahon and the scout leaped from their concealment, followed hard upon + the fugitive, and fired repeatedly at him from their revolvers. + </p> + <p> + Could he escape? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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 commonplace manner. Both might be forgiven, + however, 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. + </p> + <p> + What was that? A cry of pain. + </p> + <p> + The pursuers came up, and saw a figure totter and fall at their feet. + </p> + <p> + "You have caught me at last," Donald said; "but had the truce been kept, + you never could have taken me." + </p> + <p> + The outlaw was wrapped in blankets and conveyed to Sherbrooke prison, and + the following 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 captured, after having been + severely wounded in the hip by a revolver shot." + </p> + <p> + In the jail Donald said—"I was taken by treachery." + </p> + <p> + But the outlaw had been secured! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <p> + 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 stagnant 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 those + rare old maids who are so sweet and wholesome that even youth, hot and + impatient, tenders cordial homage to them. + </p> + <p> + 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, falling 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 experience. 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 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "A tear for pity, + And a hand open as day for melting charity." +</pre> + <p> + THE END. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hunted Outlaw, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTED OUTLAW *** + +***** This file should be named 9331-h.htm or 9331-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/3/9331/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and +PGDistributed Proofreaders from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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