espite his heavy duties, he retained the headship of the
corps to the end of his days. In later years Sir Wilfred Laurier, Sir
Robert Bordon, and the Hon. N. W. Rowell were outstanding also in their
high opinion of, and their great interest in, the riders of the plains.
In fact all public men who really understood the Western situation and
the wide-reaching influence of the Police on Western history have always
been ready to estimate highly the great services rendered by these
remarkable men. During that same decade which rounded out the century
Colonel MacLeod, who had been appointed to the Bench and whose fine
character had endeared him to the Police and the country, crossed the
Great Divide amid the grief of all who knew him. The Assistant
Commissioner, W. M. Herchmer, who had throughout nearly thirty years
served with distinction in the Militia and the Police, died much
regretted, and was succeeded by Superintendent John H. McIlree, who
retired in 1911 after thirty-eight years of most valuable service.

It was in that decade also that the gold-rush into the Yukon took place,
as we shall see, and furnished a new occasion for one of the most
remarkable periods in the history of the Police, replete with incidents
of adventure and tales of endurance along with a devotion to duty and a
triumphant enforcement of law which added immensely to the already great
prestige of the Force, and made a record that not only astonished but
won the admiration of the world. We will, however, review some notable
events of that decade before coming to the Yukon.

Tragic but glorious was the fate of a young constable near Pendant
d'Oreille, who was out on special duty when a blinding snow-storm
gathered to the height of a blizzard across his path. Losing the way,
the troop-horse stumbled into a ravine and broke his neck. But the
athletic young policeman, who had developed muscle as well as mind in
his university, extricated himself and struggled on in his determination
to carry out his commission. The odds of blizzard and cold were too
heavy, and the gallant lad succumbed in the unequal contest. But he
would bring no discredit on the Police tradition, and when his body was
discovered by a search party the following words, scribbled with
freezing fingers, were found on a paper in his dispatch bag, "Lost.
Horse dead. Am trying to push on. Have done my best." In the long roll
of honour there are few more remarkable incidents than this of the