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.

What was that? A cry of pain.

The pursuers came up, and saw a figure totter and fall at their feet.

"You have caught me at last," Donald said; "but had the truce been kept,
you never could have taken me."

The outlaw was wrapped in blankets and conveyed to Sherbrooke prison,
and the 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."

In the jail Donald said--"I was taken by treachery."

But the outlaw had been secured!