are in a tent in the woods."

With officers and men of that stamp we hear no whining about being
unable to enforce the laws of the country. And it was no easy place to
enforce laws of certain kinds. The whole region around Fort MacLeod, as
the necessarily crude outpost was called, being conveniently near the
boundary line, had been for years the favourite stamping ground of the
whisky-peddler. There had been no one to interfere with his activities.
The Hudson's Bay Company regime, never very active in that locality, had
been out of commission for four years, and nothing had taken its place.
For Canadian authority, governing in a long-distance fashion, had not
yet impressed itself visibly on the vast plains. Hence the outlaw trader
had gone his riotous way, and as a result the poor Indian, who had an
insatiable thirst for stimulant, had lived riotously to his own great
detriment.

And so, busy as the Police were in trying to build some shelter for
their horses and themselves, Colonel MacLeod lost no time striking a
body blow at the liquor traffic. Hearing from an Indian named Three
Bulls that a coloured man was doing business in fire-water about 50
miles away, MacLeod sent Inspector Crozier and ten men, accompanied by
the inimitable interpreter, Jerry Potts, to gather in the outfit. Two
days afterwards Crozier returned, bringing in the coloured gentleman and
four others with some wagon-loads of whisky, a small arsenal of rifles
and revolvers, as well as many bales of buffalo robes, which the
whisky-sellers had taken from the poor Indians in exchange for the drink
that was so fatal to these children of the wild. The whisky was poured
out in the snow, the robes were confiscated for the good of the country,
and the culprits given the option of a fine or jail. This process
revealed the headquarters of the traffic, for a sporting man, rejoicing
in the sobriquet of "Wavey," came up from Fort Benton, in Montana, and
paid the fines of the white men. There was an extra charge against the
coloured man, whose name was Bond, and as "Wavey" would not intervene
Mr. Bond had to go to jail. MacLeod would stand no nonsense. On one
occasion, a gentleman from the same country as Bond, who was sent to
jail without option, and who had in his own locality contracted the bad
habit of talking back to judges, said to Colonel MacLeod, "When I get
out of here, if you put me in, I will make them wires to Washington
hum." "Let them hum," sad the Co