whom I
recall meeting at Battleford in Riel's day as the Mounted Police scout
who seemed to bear a charmed life, and who did much to save the
situation in the fight with Poundmaker at Cutknife Hill. Ross went to
South Africa as a sort of free lance, but he joined up with a scout
body, and so distinguished himself that he was permitted to form a corps
of his own which, as Ross's Scouts, did some dashing service. All the
Western Canadians gave a good account of themselves. They were not
strong on the fine points of military etiquette, and sometimes offended
by failing to recognize and salute officers in strange uniforms. They
were rather restive in barracks, and did not take kindly to the life in
Cape Town, but they were at home when in the saddle on really active
duty, and got their full share of it before the war was over. Their
presence on the veld and their effective work won high praise from such
high-class officers as Sir Redvers Buller, Lord Dundonald, Lord
Kitchener and, later on, in London, "the first gentleman of Europe,"
King Edward himself.

A thoroughly characteristic story is told by several writers about a
C.M.R. man who had been a cowboy and "bronco-buster" in Alberta. An
Imperial Regiment, under General Hutton, was bewailing the fact that
they had a magnificent black Australian horse, a regular outlaw so
vicious and powerful that none of their men could handle, much less ride
him, and they were quite sure that no one else could, so that the animal
might as well be shot. One of the C.M.R. officers who was present said
some men in his troop could ride, and he would ask them about it. He
went over and several of them volunteered, but they settled amongst
themselves that Billy should tackle the situation. Next morning was the
time fixed, and Billy, in cowboy costume, carrying his own trusty saddle
and a quirt, sauntered over to the spot careless-like, and not knowing
the insignia of rank very well, walked up to an Imperial officer in gold
lace, and prodding him jocularly with the quirt, said, "Where is the
black son of a gun that you say can't be rid?" The officer looked amazed
at being so accosted, but, like a good sport, laughed and ordered the
horse to be turned loose. Billy's friends promptly lassoed the "waler,"
hogtied and saddled him in a hurry. Billy was in the saddle when the
snorting animal was on his feet. The horse put up a game fight, bucking,
kicking, biting, "swapping ends," and doing everythi