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Anonymous

"or, Donald Morrison, the Canadian Rob Roy"


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.


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