tson was to
have the land and Fisk the horses in the place. They went to Tucker's
shack early one morning and, knocking at the door, Robertson told who he
was. The old rancher got up and admitted them, and as he was dressing
Fisk shot him through the forehead, and putting the revolver into
Robertson's hand said, "Now you shoot also," which Robertson did. Then
they got the money, hitched up the team and drove to the river, where
they dumped the body. But the river again gave up its dead.

When the confession got this far word was wired to Calgary, from where
three Mounted Police went out in a motor in the night and arrested Fisk,
who was taken off guard or he might have made a fight. Both Fisk and
Robertson were convicted. Fisk was hanged, but Robertson, who had turned
"King's evidence," was given imprisonment for life. The community
breathed easier when Fisk was out of the way.

A curious and interesting sequel was furnished by a handsome dog, which
had belonged to Fisk, and was with him when he murdered Peach. When Fisk
was arrested the human-hearted men of the scarlet tunic, who had pursued
the inhuman murderer, adopted his innocent dog and called him "Fisk."
The dog attached himself to Constable Davis, and was with him when he
was shot by "Running Wolf," a desperate Indian whom he was arresting.
Then the dog became attached to Corporal Watts, accompanied him for four
years on special duty, and was with him at Exshaw, when Watts narrowly
escaped death at the hands of a desperado there. Finally, when Watts
(now Sergeant, and a man who has seen much service) was moving to
Vancouver with the Division, "Fisk," who had become infirm and old, was
run over by a street car in Calgary. This star-witness of many crimes,
concerning which he could not speak, thus closed an exciting and
adventurous career.

Back further in the years another case of a somewhat similar type
occurred, and all these cases indicate not only the certain and deadly
precision of the Mounted Police methods in relation to the capture of
criminals, but they also suggest to the imagination what the lonely
prairie would have been to settlers without the presence of this
watchful corps. The case to which I now refer was one in which the body
of an evidently murdered man was found near Lacombe, in Alberta. There
was no clue to the murderer, but Superintendent Constantine, himself a
keen detective, put Sergeant Hetherington on the trail. Hetherington
proved to