s confidence and
Blake had no hesitation about doing so. He knew the high reputation of
the Royal North-West Mounted Police, which is a force of well-mounted
and carefully chosen frontier cavalry. Its business is to keep order
on a vast stretch of plain, to watch over adventurous settlers who push
out ahead of the advancing farming community, and to keep a keen eye on
the reserve Indians. Men from widely different walks of life serve in
its ranks, and the private history of each squadron is rich in romance,
but one and all are called upon to scour the windy plains in the saddle
in the fierce summer heat and make adventurous sledge journeys across
the winter snow. Their patrols search the lonely North from Hudson's
Bay to the Mackenzie, living in the open in Arctic weather, and the
peaceful progress of Western Canada is largely due to their unrelaxing
vigilance. Blake accordingly gave a short account of his journey and
explained his present straits.

"Well," said the Sergeant, "I figure we have stores enough to see us
down to the settlements all right, and we'll be glad of your company.
The stronger the party, the smoother the trail, and after what you've
told me, I guess you can march."

"Where did you find the breed?" Benson asked. "Your chiefs at Regina
don't allow you hired packers."

"They surely don't. He's a Hudson's Bay man, working his passage.
Going back to his friends somewhere about Lake Winnipeg, and allowed
he'd come south with us and take the cars to Selkirk. I was glad to
get him; I'm not smart at driving dogs."

"We found it hard to understand the few Indians we met," said Harding.
"The farther north you go, the worse it must be. How will the fellows
you left up yonder get on?"

The Sergeant laughed. "When we want a thing done, we can find a man in
the force fit for the job. One of the boys I took up can talk to them
in Cree or Assiniboine, and it wouldn't beat us if they spoke Hebrew or
Greek. There's a trooper in my detachment who knows both."

Benson, who did not doubt this, turned to Private Walthew, whose face,
upon which the firelight fell, suggested intelligence and refinement.

"What do you specialize in?"

"Farriery," answered the young man, who might have added that
extravagance had cut short his career as veterinary surgeon in the old
country.

"Knows a horse all over, outside and in," Sergeant Lane interposed. "I
allow that's why they sent him when I asked for a good d