se of Sergeant Wilde, of Pincher Creek, who trailed a murderous
Indian generally known as Charcoal into the foothills. When the murderer
was sighted, Wilde, whose horse was one of the best, spurred away ahead
of his men. Charcoal was riding deliberately along with a rifle slung
across in front of him in plain sight of Wilde, who, however, would not
fire upon him, but pressed on to make the arrest and leave the disposal
of him to the law of the land. When Wilde rode up to him, the Indian
wheeled in his saddle and shot him, following this up a few minutes
after by putting another bullet in the body of the policeman as he lay
on the ground. Wilde was one of the finest men who had ever worn the
uniform--one of the men who had built up the great tradition of the
Force. He was greatly beloved at Pincher Creek, where the citizens
erected a monument to his memory. A pathetic incident took place on the
day of his funeral, when a faithful and favourite hound that had always
kept guard over Wilde refused to allow the pallbearers to remove the
body and had to be shot before the funeral cortege could proceed. It was
a pity to have to do this drastic thing, but the loyal and devoted dog
would no doubt have died in any case of a broken heart.

And then there was the case of that other gallant young man, Sergeant
Colebrook, up in the Prince Albert district, who was killed while
proceeding to arrest a notorious Indian called Almighty Voice. Colebrook
knew the character of the Indian because he had arrested him once before
for cattle-stealing. This time Colebrook was trailing him for killing
cattle and for breaking jail, and in company with an interpreter guide
caught up to him on the open prairie. The Indian unslung his gun and
called to the guide to tell the policeman to halt or he would shoot. But
halting was not the Police way, and Colebrook, with the warrant to
arrest, not to kill, as he said to the guide, went steadily forward and
received a fatal bullet through the heart. It was the price he paid for
his devotion to orders, but it maintained the Police tradition. Almighty
Voice, of course, was not allowed to escape. He and two other Indians
took up a stand in a clump of bushes, where they fought like rats in a
hole against the Police and civilians, of whom they killed several
before the bush was shelled and the Indians found dead when Assistant
Commissioner McIllree with several men rushed the position from the open
plain.

It wa