t a North-West Mounted
Policeman before and would probably be wiser in the future in regard to
raising a "disturbance" when one of them was at hand.

Another evening a "bad man" from Idaho "blew in" to Weyburn. He was a
sort of travelling arsenal and got very bold when he got into an unarmed
Canadian town. He began shooting holes in verandahs, and if any one went
to look out of a window the Idaho desperado threatened to "make him into
a sieve." A prominent citizen was made to hold out his hat as a target
for this pistol artist. This citizen remonstrated and warned the Idaho
man that there was a Mounted Policeman not many miles away who would
probably hear of the situation and come over. This enraged the
"gun-man," who offered to bet that no Mounted Policeman could arrest
him, adding, "if he comes to butt in to my game I will eat his liver
cold." A telephone message was sent to Corporal Lett. It took some time
to ride in, but Lett located the Idaho citizen terrorizing a bar-room.
Lett walked in and the Idaho man had his gun up in a second. No one knew
just how it happened, but Lett sprang at the desperado. There was a
grapple and a fall, but when they got up Lett had the Idaho "gun" in his
hand. The rest was simple. The gun-man had to hold out his hands for the
"bracelets." Whether he paid the bet or not no one has recorded, but
Lett got an extra stripe for his daring.

This recalls another real incident which my friend, Robert Stead, the
well-known writer, has put into verse under the title, "A Squad of One,"
though he gives fictitious names. A certain Sergeant Blue of the Mounted
Police who was alone at a prairie post got a letter from a United States
Marshal asking him to find and arrest two men who had committed murder
and escaped to our side of the line. There was always cordial
reciprocity between the police officials along the boundary, and so the
Marshal warns the Sergeant to send out his strongest squad of men to
make the arrest of these fellows, for he said:

"They's as full of sin as a barrel of booze and as quick as a cat,
with a gun,
So if you happen to hit their trail be sure to start the fun."

The Sergeant was alone, but started out next morning clad as a farm
labourer, called at the farm suspected, found the men with
shooting-irons, but got them talking and then got them separated and
bagged them both at "the nose of a forty-four." And when he got back to
his lonely post he wrote and