The rifle conveyed no sense of contact. It was thrust in without
conscious motive.

The police took their departure.

"What a narrow escape!" Donald said, when he had emerged from his
hiding-place. His face showed pale beneath the bronze. The perspiration
stood in beads upon his brow.

The friendly creature who sheltered him trembled like an aspen.

She had expected discovery, arrest, perhaps even bloodshed. She felt all
a woman's exaggerated horror of police, and law, and violence.

"Forgive me," Donald said, "for coming near the house. I'll not trouble
you again."




CHAPTER XXXV.

ANOTHER TRUCE ASKED FOR.

The friends of the outlaw made a last effort to bring about an
accommodation. A noted lawyer in Toronto had been written to, and had
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.