Policing the Plains | Page 2

picketed his horse, a
sudden air of orderliness settled on the locality. The young man, going
around with that characteristic cavalry swing, issued a few warnings,
tacked up a notice or two and then saddling his rested steed rode away
at a canter over the plain. But the air of orderliness remained in that
region after the horseman had disappeared over the horizon just as if he
were still present. This was puzzling to a newcomer who was along,
and he asked me what manner of man this young rider was that he was
received with such deference and that his orders, so quietly given, were
so instantly and so continuously obeyed.
The answer was made out of a life-long acquaintance with the history
and the real life of Western Canada: "Well, it is not the young constable
himself that counts so mightily, though he is a likely looking fellow
enough who could be cool anywhere and who could give ample
evidence of possessing those muscles of steel which count in a
hand-to-hand encounter. But you see he is one of that widely known
body of men called the Royal North-West Mounted Police. They have
patrolled and guarded and guided this whole North-West Country for
the last forty years and more. During that period they have built up a
great tradition which rests on a solid foundation of achievement. Their
reputation for courage is unchallenged, their record for giving every
man of whatever race or colour a square deal is unique, their inflexible
determination to see that law is enforced is well known and their
refusal to count the odds against them when duty is to be done has been
absolutely proven again and again. All these elements and others have

created the Mounted Police tradition to such an extent that the one
constable you saw is looked on as the embodiment of the Empire which
plays no favourites but which at the same time will stand no nonsense
from anyone. And perhaps most wonderful of all is that part of their
record which shows that they have done all this and more without any
violence or repression, except as a last resort. They were always more
ready and anxious to save human life than to destroy it."
"All that is very interesting," said my friend; "I would like to hear more
about these men, and would be glad if you would tell me something of
their history." And out there under the open sky of the North Country,
with the stars sparkling above us and the Aurora Borealis dancing and
swishing over our heads in a wonderful panorama of colour and
movement, we talked long into the night about the men in scarlet and
gold. Their whole story could not be told in a night, but the eager
interest of the listener and the creation of a new pride in things
Canadian in his heart, led me to resolve that the history he was seeking
should some day be published to the world. Many requests for the story
have come since that night in the Peace River country, and now that
one period of Police history is closing through the extension of the
jurisdiction of the Force over the whole Dominion, East as well as
West, accompanied by the word "Canadian" in their title instead of
"North West," the time seems opportune for a real-life record of what
these men throughout the years have meant to Canada. Such a record
should cause every Royal Canadian Mounted Police recruit to realize
that he has to be worthy of the tradition built up by the achievements of
nearly half a century through valorous men, many of whom have now
passed over the Great Divide. It will deepen in all men of sincerity a
respect for authority in a restless age. And it will bring into the light
facts hitherto unrevealed that will fill all men with pride in their
country.
I know that the men of the Mounted Police have been averse to saying
anything about themselves. They have the usual British characteristic
of reticence intensified. But though I have been brigaded with them on
active service, I have not been a member of the corps, and hence do not
feel bound by their policy of silence. Let the plain truth, which is

always stranger than fiction, be told about these gallant riders as an
inspiration to young Canadians and to men of the blood everywhere.
With this purpose in view I am now keeping the resolution made that
night in the North, as I am in this book extending and telling to a larger
audience the story then unfolded to an individual. My humble hope is
that the larger audience may be equally interested.
THE WIDE WESTLAND
In the year of Grace