oss Moose Jaw, Swift Current, Indian Head, and Portage
La Prairie. I forget at which of these it was we saw Indians in all the
gaudy finery of their ancestors, with feathers sticking up on their
heads, buckskin shirts covered all over with beads and decorated with
tassels, in which coloured grasses were twisted. As the Indian may not
take scalps now he has to find other trimmings! These men dress up like
this to attract tourists, because they want to sell buffalo horns,
bead-work moccasins and bags, and many other things.

Then we got to Regina, the headquarters of the Royal North-West Mounted
Police, and were lucky enough to catch sight of one or two of the force
in their neat work-manlike khaki, with their round broad-brimmed hats
which the Boy Scouts have imitated. These men are hard as nails and
absolutely fearless; the story of the adventures of the force would make
a thrilling book.

[Illustration: INDIAN IN ANCIENT FINERY.]

At every station we notice tall odd-looking buildings which form no part
of an English station. These are grain-elevators. When the farmer has
threshed his corn he can bring it here and receive a receipt for it,
and have it stored; then it is run up to the top of one of these places
by endless ropes, and thence can be easily poured down out of a
funnel-like shaft into the waiting trucks for shipment.

[Illustration: NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE.]

At last there is a farm where the corn is being cut! I have been
watching to see one. That row of machines following each other, in what
seems from here to be a line, are cutting and binding the corn and
turning it out in neat sheaves. The Canadian farmer is often very much
ahead of us in the way of machinery. He has to be, for sometimes he has
furrows four miles long and a farm the size of an English county. There
is, for instance, a steam-plough which takes twelve fourteen-inch
furrows at once! What would an English yokel, meandering along at the
tail of his two slow horses, say to that? His little job would be done
before it was time for breakfast! Hullo! there is another field, all in
stooks already--look across the boundless plain to the horizon. There is
nothing to be seen but stooks and that thin telephone wire running like
a line in the sky in the far distance. When you look at any map of
Canada you can't help noticing how straight the boundaries of the
provinces are, just as if ruled with a ruler; as a matter of fact they
run usually on l