demurred again.

"Send them away," repeated the sergeant, "if you have any authority over them."

At a sign Sitting Bull and the chiefs made towards the door, but there were interruptions—red-coated objections. And the rifles of the chiefs were stacked in the yard outside. Sitting Bull, like Piapot, had brains; likewise was he a good general. He nodded approvingly at this coup d'état, and told one of the chiefs to go out and send the boys away.

When the young bucks had withdrawn to their camp, the sergeant persuaded Sitting Bull and the others to remain a little longer, chiefly by force of the red-coated arguments he brought to bear upon them.

"Tarry here, brothers," he said, "until I send Constable Collins and two others of my men to arrest the murderers of the dead Indians. The Saultaux are subjects of the Queen, and we cannot allow them to be killed for the fun of the thing. Also the boy told us who the murderers are."

Then Constable Collins—big Jack Collins, wild Irishman, and all the rest of it—went over to the Sioux camp, accompanied by two fellow-policemen, and arrested three of the slayers of the dead Indians. It was like going through the Inquisition for the fun of the thing. The Indians jostled and shoved them, reviled them, and fired their pistols and guns about their ears, whirled their knives and tomahawks dangerously close, and indulged in every other species of torment their vengeful minds could devise. But big Jack and his comrades hung on to their prisoners, and steadily worked their way along to the post.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. CHAPTER II.

Not a sign of annoyance had escaped either of the constables up to the time a big Indian stepped up directly in front of Jack Collins and spat in his face. Whirra, whirroo! A big mutton-leg fist shot through the prairie air, and the Sioux brave, with broken nose, lay like a crushed moccasin at Jack's feet.

"Take that, you black baste!" he hissed, between his clenched teeth. "An' ye've made me disobey orders, ye foul fiend!"

Then he marched his prisoners into the post, and reported himself for misconduct for striking an Indian. The three prisoners were sent to Regina, and tried for murder. I do not know whether Jack was punished for his handiwork or not, though it is quite likely that he was strongly censured at least.

In 1896 a party of several hundred Crees, who had gone on a raid into Montana, were returned by the United States authorities, under guard of a cavalry regiment, and the Mounted Police were notified to meet them and take charge at the boundary. What was the amazement of the American officers to be met by a sergeant and two constables; but such was the influence of their uniform that the Indians meekly marched ahead of them back to their reserve. In 1907 a single constable followed an escaped convict and noted desperado for over 2,000 miles of the pathless northern wilderness, and brought him back to stand trial. These are but samples of what the North-West Mounted Police have been doing for over thirty years for the fair name of Canada.

When the Strathcona Horse were organized for South African service, 300 members of the corps were mounted policemen; the gallant commander was the commissioner, Lieutenant-Colonel Steele, and the whole Empire is familiar with their record there. Many of the members are "remittance men," the younger sons and often the prodigals of well-known English families, and not infrequently of noble birth. In recent years there has been added to their duties the care of the Yukon, and the maintenance of order in this great gold camp far up at the Arctic Circle has fully sustained their reputation.

CHAPTER VII

THE SHIP OF THE PRAIRIE

"All aboard!" Such is the commanding cry which rings out in a Canadian railway-station when a train is quite ready to start. "All aboard!" shouts the conductor as he walks briskly alongside the train. In climb the waiting passengers, and without further warning the big, ponderous engine begins to move; and as it moves, the big bell which it carries begins to toll, and keeps on tolling until the train is well clear of the station. There is no string of guards and porters crying, "Take your seats, please!" and no ringing of a station bell, as in England. The conductor is the master of the train. Indeed, he is more like the captain of a ship, and wields almost as much authority over his passengers as does the captain of a big Atlantic liner. You will notice that his cry when the train is ready to start is one that would be appropriate to use to people intending to embark on a vessel. The camel in tropical countries is called the "ship of the desert." It would be just as suitable to call the Canadian train the "ship of the prairie," especially as many phrases are used with regard to trains that we are more accustomed to associate with travelling by sea. For instance, when a Canadian merchant sends away by train a quantity of timber or of potatoes, or even groceries, he always speaks of "shipping" them. Again, the men who are in charge of a train—namely, the engine-driver, the stoker, the conductor, the luggage-clerk (baggage-man), the post-office officials (mail-clerks), and the parcels official (express agent), are spoken of collectively as the "train crew."

The Canadian engine, which is a big, heavy thing, generally painted black, so that it has not the smart look of an English railway locomotive, carries a huge acetylene lamp fixed high up on the front of the funnel, and with this it can light up the track for many yards in front of it as it puffs along at night. When it wants to give a warning, it does not whistle in the shrill way an English railway locomotive does: it gives out an ear-splitting, hoarse, hollow-sounding scream or roar that can be heard a long way off, and also rings the big "chapel" bell. And when it is entering a station, it keeps on clanging its bell until it comes to a dead standstill at the platform.

The through trains on the transcontinental railways carry three classes of passengers—colonist, tourist, and first-class, or "Pullman," as they are called, from the name of the great American firm which long made the Pullman or palace cars for all the railways in America. Those who travel by the latter live as luxuriously as if they were at an hotel; a dining-car accompanies them in which a full-course dinner is served; there are libraries, shower-baths, even barber's shops, on some of these trains, and each train is fitted with observation-cars with glass sides, from which one can view the scenery at fifty miles an hour. Besides this, the railways maintain fine hotels at all the places of interest, just as is done at home.

The conductor of the train not only does what the guard on an English train does, but he also performs the duties of ticket-examiner and booking- or ticket-clerk as well. Whilst the train is still travelling he walks through the cars, one after the other, and examines and punches the passengers' tickets; and if a passenger has not got a ticket, the conductor will give him one and take the money for it. This saves the railway company the expense of having ticket-collectors at every station. Another reason why the conductor performs these duties is that at many of the small stations there is no station-master and no booking-clerk. Except in certain of the largest towns, there are no porters at the railway-stations. In consequence of this, railway-travellers generally carry only a small portmanteau or valise in their hands. The general name for a handbag,