house; away to the bush;
quick."

Donald took Minnie's hand and wrung it hard. He bent down and kissed her
forehead. "God bless you," he said--"farewell."

Then he rushed out of the house, and disappeared from view in the woods.

It was a party of five policemen, armed with rifles.

They were too late!

CHAPTER XXXII. MAJOR DUGAS MEETS THE OUTLAW FACE TO FACE--A UNIQUE INTERVIEW.

Minnie was right about the reinforcements, though the suggestion as to
bloodhounds proved to be nothing but idle rumor. Fifteen men came
from Quebec. The expedition numbered now thirty-five men. The search
increased in rigor. The houses were visited day and night. 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.

Major Dugas was disgusted. He had been in the district nearly three
weeks. He had tried conciliation. That had failed. He had tried
severity. That, too, had failed. He had increased the searching force.
That, also, had availed nothing.

When, therefore, three of Donald's firmest friends approached the Major
with the 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.

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.

Major Dugas ordered the suspension of operations. In the company
of Donald's friends, he drove to