THE IRON HORSES
For some ten stirring and formative years the Mounted Police had been
riding their gallant steeds over the virgin sod of the untracked prairie
before the iron horses, crossing the Red River, hit the steel trail for
the mountains and the Western Sea. It is quite certain that the presence
of the men in scarlet and gold on western plains was an element in the
situation which encouraged the promoters of the Canadian Pacific
Railway, our first transcontinental, to undertake their tremendous
project with more assured confidence. For these shrewd students of human
nature knew quite well that people would look in various ways upon the
coming of the railway.
There would be some who, like Thoreau, the hermit sage of Walden, would
resent, though perhaps for a less æsthetic reason, the intrusion of this
noisy and energetic sign of a new era. It was he who cried, "We do not
ride on the railway, it rides on us." For, while there were some in our
West who actually did feel regret at the passing of the quiet day of
their pioneer life, most of those who had the aggressive spirit of the
white race in them, were glad to see the vision of the earliest
colonists being fulfilled by the opening up of the country. But there
were others who had lived on the frontiers, and had been a law unto
themselves, who said, like a trader who saw three wooden shacks built
where Calgary now stands, "I am going to move back--this is getting too
civilized for me," and the man who said that represented a class that
had to be made to realize the presence of government.
Then there were the Indians, who saw in the advent of the railway the
necessary disappearance of big game from the plains, which would become
the habitat of the settler. More than once there were Indians who would
have blocked the way of the railway builders or would even have swooped
down in the night and torn up the rails, but for the restraining
presence of authority. And besides all these, there were some amongst
the huge gangs of navvies and general track-makers who had alien tastes
and habits, who required to be, on occasion, reminded that, while in a
British country no law-abiding man should be coerced into working
against his will if he was not satisfied with conditions, he must
respect the rights of human life and must not destroy the property of
others. All these cases and conditions became actualities in the West,
and with all these the Mounted Police dealt as occasions arose, in such
a way as to enable the march of civilization to proceed unchecked and
unafraid.
For the settlers who made the continuance of the railway possible, the
Mounted Policeman was a sort of guardian angel, and the well-known
painting by Paul Wickson which hangs in the Premier's office at Ottawa
shows how the patrol went about asking the homesteader if he had any
complaints. Only those perhaps who have lived on these far-sundered
homesteads know how much this meant to these lonely men and their
isolated families. Fighting prairie fires, when the mad battalions of
flame wheeled with the gale and charged at the humble dwelling or the
precious hay or wheat-stacks of the settler, was the willingly assumed
duty of many a rider of the plains. One recalls the case of Constable
Conradi, who, while on patrol one fall day when the dry grass was as
inflammable as tinder, asked a settler if there was any homesteader
living in the direction where a fire was rushing. The settler said yes,
that there was a man named Young, his wife and children, that way, but
it would be impossible to reach them through the fiery wall that was so
plainly visible. "Impossible or not," says the constable, "I am going to
try," and putting spurs to his horse he was soon lost to sight in the
rolling smoke. The horse was so badly burned that he had to be shot, but
Conradi saved the family. He found Mr. Young, the settler, exhausted.
They both fought the fierce blaze, and when hope of saving the home was
gone, the constable, plunging through the fire, found Mrs. Young and the
children standing in the water of a slough. He saw that they would be
suffocated when the fire encircled it, and so he plunged and carried the
children to the burnt ground, the mother following. From the settler's
grateful letter to headquarters we make this extract: "His pluck and
endurance I cannot praise too highly, fighting till he was nearly
suffocated, his hat burned off his head, hair singed and vest on fire.
My wife and family owe their lives to him, and I feel with them we shall
never be able to repay him for his brave conduct." Thus did the Police
make the settlers' work possible, that they in turn might make the
railway a reasonably safe investment. Then, when the Indians became
awkward and threatened to stop the progress of the transcontinental
railway across the prairie, it was the Mounted Police that stepped in to
see that the road was not blocked. Eastern contractors and workmen, who
had not been used to seeing war-paint, were somewhat alarmed when a band
of Indians would swoop down with the air of people who owned the earth,
and in all such cases the Police were quickly called by wire or
otherwise. Superintendent Shurtcliffe tells of a rather odd case in
which an Indian chief with the appropriate name of "Front Man" stopped a
railway contractor from getting out ties and caused the whole outfit to
leave the bush in a good deal of panic. Shurtcliffe, a capable officer,
immediately sent for "Front Man" and told him how dangerous a thing it
was to interfere with the progress of work authorized by Canada. "Front
Man" realized that he had rushed in where he had no business, and on his
promising Shurtcliffe that he would behave himself, the contractor and
his men went back to their peaceable but very important tie business.
Then there was the case of Pie-a-Pot, who from the earliest days of
treaty-making was crochety and rather defiantly opposed to the incoming
of anything or anybody that would interfere with his nomadic habits and
general inclination to please himself. He showed a disagreeable tendency
to leave his reserve and wander with his camp following and general
entourage, much to the discomfort of others who were not desirous of his
presence. One day this chief took it into his head that he would wander
on to the right-of-way being mapped out for the Canadian Pacific, and by
spreading his camp across it put a damper on the enterprise. And he
succeeded up to a certain point. The engineers worked up to his camp and
politely asked him to move, but he laughed at them, enjoyed their
discomfiture, while his braves circled around with their ponies and kept
up a rifle fire to indicate what they could do to the engineers in case
of emergency. Of course, the engineers were glad to retire as gracefully
as possible, but they wired the Lieutenant-Governor that they were at a
standstill. The Governor sent word to Police headquarters, whence a
telegram went to the nearest Police post: "Trouble on railway. Tell
Indians to move on." There were only two men there, a sergeant and a
constable. They rode off at once, and when they arrived at the camp of
the Indians and delivered the order, Pie-a-Pot and his chief men, who
had not been much in contact with the Police, only laughed, while the
braves performed their usual firearm feats and the squaws jeered. Then
the sergeant indicated by showing his watch that he would give fifteen
minutes for them to start moving. At this the braves on signal circled
closer, backed their ponies against the troop-horses and made every
effort to get the Police to start trouble, the idea being to let them
take the offensive and be wiped out. But the Police were never to be
drawn that way. In this case the two scarlet tuniced men sat coolly on
their horses, which stood at the door of Pie-a-Pot's tent. And when the
time was up the sergeant, throwing the lines to the constable, sprang
off his horse, leaped past the surly Chief, entered the tepee and kicked
out the centre pole, thus bringing the wigwam down nearly on the head of
the defiant Indian. Without waiting, the sergeant moved to the next tent
and repeated the operation with great precision, and then said to the
chief and his men, "Now move and move quick." The chief was very angry,
but he was no fool, and so in a very short time he and his whole outfit
were on the trek to their reserve. The engineers went on with the
transcontinental, and the two athletes in scarlet and gold, whose names
were not even given out, rode back to their post, having made one more
unadvertised contribution from the Police to the making of the West.
Now let us instance a case in which the Police had to deal with
turbulent navvies on the railway who went on strike and threatened to
destroy the company's property. The Police have never acted in any sense
as strike-breakers, nor have they interfered between the parties. They
simply saw fair play, took care that the country's lawful business was
carried on and provided against destruction of human life and property.
This was the position for instance at the Beaver in the mountains while
the Canadian Pacific was under construction. For the time being it was a
terminus, and all manner of lawless, desperate and disorderly characters
were there to prey upon the navvies, many of whom were foreigners and a
good many of whom were just as reckless and offensive as could be
imagined. To keep these rough men in order, and there were several
hundreds of them mostly armed, there were only eight Mounted Police, but
they were under the leadership of the redoubtable Superintendent, Sam B.
Steele, who had as his non-commissioned assistant Sergeant Fury, a
short, heavy set, bull-dog type of a man, whom I remember well, quiet,
determined and undemonstrative, but who could, while keeping cool, at
the same time be everything his name suggested if occasion required.
When the strike was starting, Steele did not interfere, but warned the
strikers that they must keep the peace and not commit any acts of
violence or he would punish them to the full extent of the law. When the
strike did start, Steele was in bed with mountain fever and Sergeant
Fury had only six men. One of them, Constable Kerr, who had gone for a
bottle of medicine for the Inspector, found on his way back a riotous
crowd with a desperate character, well known to the Police, inciting the
mob to violence and especially to an attack on the barracks. Kerr, who
was not a man to stand nonsense, promptly arrested the man, but a score
of men overpowered him and released the prisoner. Sergeant Fury at once
reported to Steele, who said, "It will never do to let the gang think
they can play with us." Then Fury and another man tried to make the
arrest without resorting to using weapons, but in a little while
returned, with their uniforms torn, to report that once again the
rioters had taken the prisoner from them by force. Steele said, "This is
too bad. Go back armed and shoot any man who interferes with the
arrest." He started off again with Constables Fane, Craig and Walters,
while the other four constables with their Winchesters stood ready to
guard the barracks, which were slated for attack by the mob. Johnston, a
magistrate, was there to read the Riot Act if necessary. In a few
minutes there was a shot. Steele got up and went to the window. Craig
and Walters were dragging the prisoner across the bridge, the desperado
fighting like a demon, and a scarlet woman following them with cries and
curses. Fury and Fane were in the rear trying to hold back the gang of
some three hundred men. Steele called on Johnston to come with him to
read the Riot Act and then rushed out, got a rifle from one of the
guard, and ignoring his fevered condition ran across the bridge,
covering the crowd with the rifle and saying he would shoot the first
man who dared to cross. The crowd could hardly believe their eyes when
they saw Steele and shouted, "Even his death-bed does not scare him." In
the meantime the desperate prisoner was struggling fiercely with the men
who had him, but when on the bridge Walters raised his powerful fist and
struck him over the temple, and with Craig trailed him like a rag into
the barracks. As the woman passed screaming, "You red-coated devil,"
Steele shouted, "Take her along too." Then Johnston read the Riot Act
and Steele made a straight statement that the Police, though few, would
not flinch and that if he saw more than twelve rioters together he would
open fire and mow them down. And the eight Mounted Police stood there
under Sergeant Fury with magazines charged, ready to act when ordered.
The riot collapsed right there, the ringleaders were sentenced next day
and there was no more trouble. The roughs at the Beaver had tried the
game of rioting with the wrong men.
And in order to show that the Police took no sides, but sought to hold
the balance level in these matters, we might recall an instance related
by Superintendent J. H. McIlree, where men had been hired by contractors
on the understanding that when a section of the railway was finished to
Calgary, these men would be paid off and sent back to their homes in the
East. However, the contractors, when they came to that point, would not
provide transportation to the East, but wished to send them farther
West. The men refused, and after a few days took possession of a train
of empty cars going eastward. The Police could not allow this
commandeering of the property of the railway company for the failure of
certain contractors, and so they caused the men to leave the train, but
these same Police, once they discovered the real situation, made it so
hot for those contractors that they were glad to yield and give the men
what they had agreed. So all along the line, from the time it crossed
the Red River in 1881 till it reached the Pacific five years later, the
Mounted Police stood guard over the railway which was the first to link
together with steel the scattered Provinces of the new Confederation and
the construction of which within a given time was required to get
British Columbia to become part of Canada. Thus were these red-coated
men nation-builders, in that it was under their protection that the vast
enterprise was carried forward to completion.
It is not unexpectedly then that we come across two special letters from
the builders of the great railway expressing their warm appreciation of
the work of the Police. The first is from that remarkable man, Mr. W. C.
Van Horne, who was afterwards President of the Railway, and who was
knighted for his distinguished services to the Empire as a builder of
railways. Van Horne was a somewhat extraordinary composite. I recall
having the privilege of being under his guidance around the fine art
gallery of Lord Strathcona in Montreal, and had evidence not only of his
genial companionship, but of his being an art connoisseur as well as a
skilled user of the brush himself. Socially and in his home he was full
of comradeship and bright joviality, but as a railroader he was as
inflexible and apparently unemotional as the material with which he
worked. He was not given to gushing letters, so that the following from
him from his office as General Manager of date January 1, 1883, is
noteworthy:
"DEAR SIR,--Our work of construction for the year 1882 has just
closed, and I cannot permit the occasion to pass without
acknowledging the obligations of the company to the North-West
Mounted Police, whose zeal and industry in preventing traffic in
liquor and preserving order along the line of construction have
contributed so much to the successful prosecution of the work.
Indeed, without the assistance of the officers and men of the
splendid Force under your command it would have been impossible to
have accomplished as much as we did. On no great work within my
knowledge, where so many men have been employed, has such perfect
order prevailed. On behalf of the company and of all their
officers, I wish to return thanks and to acknowledge particularly
our obligations to yourself and Major Walsh.
"I am, sir,
"Yours very truly,
"W. C. VAN HORNE,
"_General Manager_."
"Lieutenant-Colonel A. G. IRVINE,
"Commissioner,
"North-West Mounted Police,
"Regina."
And at the close of the year 1884 the General Superintendent of the
Western Line, Mr. John M. Egan, who was even less than Van Horne given
to incursions into the sentimental, wrote the following:
"MY DEAR COLONEL,--Gratitude would be wanting did the present year
close without my conveying, on behalf of the Canadian Pacific
Railway, to you and those under your charge most sincere thanks for
the manner in which their several duties in connection with the
railway have been attended to during the past season.
"Prompt obedience to your orders, faithful carrying out of your
instructions, contribute in no small degree to the rapid
construction of the line. The services of your men during recent
troubles among a certain class of our employees prevented
destruction to property and preserved obedience to law and order in
a manner highly commendable. Justice has been meted out to them
without fear or favour, and I have yet to hear any person, who
respects same, say aught against your command.
"Wishing you the season's compliments,
"I remain,
"Yours very truly,
"JNO. M. EGAN."
Taken together these letters, with tributes from two such men, more than
substantiate the claims we have made for the part played by the Police
in that critical era of Western Canadian history.
It is anticipating in order of time, but this is our railway chapter,
and so we note here another service of enormous value rendered the
railway by the men in scarlet and gold. The road was completed in 1886
from Montreal to the West Coast, and people used to wonder how this
railway, traversing some 3,000 miles across lonely prairie and lonelier
mountains, escaped having its trains held up by robbers, as was so
frequently the case in other countries. The reason emerged in a report
given by Superintendent Deane, of Calgary, and that reason was the
preventive power of the presence and prestige of the Mounted Police.
Deane, in his annual report for 1906, refers to the only effort that had
ever been made to rob a train, and starts with the following revealing
statement: "It has for years been an open secret that the train-robbing
fraternity in the United States had seriously considered the propriety
of trying conclusions with the Mounted Police, but had decided that the
risks were too great and the game not worth the candle. After the object
lesson they received last May, it may be reasonably hoped that railway
passengers will be spared further anxiety during the life of the present
generation at least." And Deane's hope has been justified.
The special event of May to which he refers was a train robbery at
Kamloops in British Columbia by a notorious train-robbing expert, Bill
Miner, _alias_ Edwards, etc., assisted by two gunmen, William Dunn and
Louis, _alias_ "Shorty" Colquhoun. A robbery had been committed by the
same parties before nearer the coast, but it had been dealt with by
local authorities and no trace of the robbers was found. However, the
railway authorities were now thoroughly alarmed and, though the
Provincial Police, one of whom, Fernie of Kamloops, did good work, were
on the trail, were not inclined to take any chances. Accordingly, a wire
was sent by C.P.R. Superintendent Marpole to General Manager Mr. (later
Sir) William Whyte, of Winnipeg, who in turn telegraphed to Commissioner
Perry, of the Mounted Police, asking that a detachment of his men be put
on the work of hunting the robbers who had escaped into the difficult
country south of Kamloops. Perry wired Calgary for two detachments to be
in readiness, and left to take charge of the arrangements. From Calgary
Inspector Church, with Sergeant Fletcher and ten men left for Penticton,
so as to cut off the escape of the robbers over the boundary line. The
Commissioner left for Kamloops, accompanied by Staff-Sergeant J. J.
Wilson, Sergeants Thomas and Shoebotham, Corporals Peters and Stewart,
Constables Browing and Tabateau, Wilson being in charge of the
detachment. The weather was bad, the horses they secured at Kamloops
were poor, but despite these handicaps this posse came on the robbers
within forty-eight hours. The outlaws were armed to the teeth, but when
they were discovered off guard were in the bush at dinner. Wilson
reported what happened as follows:
"We all dismounted, leaving the horses standing, went into the bush and
found three men eating dinner. I asked them where they came from. The
eldest man, who afterwards gave the name of Edwards, said, 'Across the
river.' I asked them where they were before that. Edwards said, 'From
over there' (pointing towards Campbell meadows). I asked how long since
they had left there. Edwards said, 'Two days.' I then asked them what
they were doing. The one who afterwards gave the name of Dunn, answered,
'Prospecting a little.' I then said, 'You answer the description given
of the train-robbers and we arrest you for that crime.' Edwards said,
'We do not look much like train-robbers.' Just then Dunn rolled over and
said, 'Look out, boys, it is all up,' and commenced to fire his
revolver. I immediately covered Edwards. Corporal Peters was standing
close to Colquhoun, who was reaching for his revolver, and he covered
him and ordered him to put up his hands, at the same time snatching away
Colquhoun's revolver. Sergeant Shoebotham, Corporal Stewart and
Constable Browning ran after Dunn, firing as they went, he returning the
fire as he ran. After some twenty shots had been exchanged Dunn fell
into a ditch and threw up his hands, saying, 'I am shot.' The men ceased
firing and took two revolvers from Dunn. On taking him out of the ditch
it was found he had been shot in the calf of the leg, the bullet going
right through."
The Mounted Men brought the whole gang into Kamloops, refusing to give
them up to anyone till they landed these desperadoes in jail, whence
they were taken to serve sentences in the penitentiary.
It is interesting to note that at that time Mr. Marpole, in a statement
issued to the press, strongly advocated the extension of the Mounted
Police Force to other parts of Canada in addition to the Middle West. In
recent years that has been done, and the result has been enormously
beneficial, as we shall later consider.
And so Deane's expectation, as we indicated, was fulfilled, for, except
for the clumsy efforts of a couple of foreigners, the train-robbers have
evidently concluded to give a wide berth to any region where the Mounted
Police stand for British Law.
And it is not inappropriate at the close of this railway chapter to
quote Steele's account of the ride given him out of compliment to his
work and that of the Police generally, on the train which was the first
to go through to the coast after Donald A. Smith had driven at
Craigellachie in November, 1885, the spike which united the two oceans
across Canada. Steele was back on duty in the mountains again and, as he
knew some of the party, was invited to go through from Kamloops on a
private car with Mr. Dickey, the government engineer, and the manager of
construction on the coast end of the huge undertaking. And Steele writes
in his most interesting book, _Forty Years in Canada_, "Dickey knew the
Manager well, which was sufficient to ensure a warm welcome, and the
train rushed along at the rate of 57 miles an hour, roaring in and out
of the numerous tunnels, our short car whirling round the short curves
like the tail of a kite, the sensation being such that when dinner was
served Dickey, the manager and I were the only men in the car who were
not suffering from train sickness. I think this was one of the wildest
rides by train any of us ever took. Many years have passed since that
memorable ride, and to-day one goes through the mountains in the most
modern and palatial observation cars, but the recollection of that
journey to the coast on the first train through is far sweeter to me
than any trips taken since. It was the exultant moment of pioneer work,
and we were all pioneers on that excursion." And we add again all due
honour to the famous corps that had watched over the destinies of the
long steel trail.