hold that the
Police had upon the Indian tribes and how it came that so small a force
could maintain the "Pax Britannica" over three hundred thousand square
miles of unsettled country, the home of hundreds of wild adventurers
and of thousands of savage Indians, utterly strange to any rule or law
except that of their own sweet will.

"This police business is a big affair," he ventured to say to the
Commissioner when the court room was cleared. "You practically run the
country."

"Well," said the Commissioner modestly, "we do something to keep the
country from going to the devil. We see that every man gets a fair
show."

"It is great work!" exclaimed Cameron.

"Yes, I suppose it is," replied the Commissioner. "We don't talk about
it, of course. Indeed, we don't think of it. But," he continued, "that
blue book there could tell a story that would make the old Empire not
too ashamed of the men who 'ride the line' and patrol the ranges in this
far outpost." He opened the big canvas-bound book as he spoke and turned
the pages over. "Look at that for a page," he said, and Cameron glanced
over the entries. What a tale they told!

"Fire-fighting!"

"Yes," said the Commissioner, "that saved a settler's wife and child--a
prairie fire. The house was lost, but the constable pulled them out and
got rather badly burned in the business."

Cameron's finger ran down the page.

"Sick man transported to Post."

"That," commented the Superintendent, "was a journey of over two hundred
miles by dog sleighs in winter. Saved the man's life."

And so the record ran. "Cattle thieves arrested." "Whiskey smugglers
captured." "Stolen horses recovered." "Insane man brought to Post."

"That was rather a tough case," said the Commissioner. "Meant a journey
of some eight hundred miles with a man, a powerful man too, raving mad."

"How many of your men on that journey?" enquired Cameron.

"Oh, just one. The fellow got away twice, but was recaptured and finally
landed. Got better too. But the constable was all broken up for weeks
afterwards."

"Man, that was great!" exclaimed Cameron. "What a pity it should not be
known."

"Oh," said the Commissioner lightly, "it's all in the day's duty."

The words thrilled Cameron to the heart. "All in the day's duty!" The
sheer heroism of it, the dauntless facing of Nature's grimmest terrors,
the steady patience, the uncalculated sacrifice, the thought of all that
lay behind these simple words held