Canadian Transport Sourcebook

Chapter XIV

The Murder

Writing on the subject of strange incidents in that vast Western Country, I am reminded of a cruel murder that happened up North before the railway was constructed.

Not many years ago a broken-down Western American adventurer, an erstwhile cowboy, prospector, gambler, and tramp, ran across a young Englishman who had a little ready money and was game for anything. It did not take long to convince this young tenderfoot that up North in Canada there awaited him untold riches in the shape of mineral wealth.

The joyous free life of "the Prospector," was skilfully depicted, and after many libations a partnership was soon formed. The American gentleman was to furnish the experience, while the Englishman provided the necessary capital. Edmonton was selected as the objective point, where a good outfit could be obtained, then hey, for the Rocky Mountains, where riches rivalling King Solomon's awaited their pick and shovel!

The eager Englishman, delighted at his good fortune in securing such a valuable partner, was only too anxious to depart for the scene of operations. So the pair lost no time in buying a handsome outfit and a couple of pack horses with the Britisher's money, and were soon on their way to tempt the fickle goddess.

Mile after mile was negotiated, over vast prairies and muskegs, climbing hills, plunging into deep valleys, swimming rapid rivers, and battling against black flies by day and mosquitoes by night, and at last the partners arrived at the foot hills of the great snow-capped range. with the exception of a few straggling Indians, they did not meet a living soul on their journey. The young Englishman was gay and garrulous, and after supper, when their little tent was pitched, horses hobbled, and a good fire built, he would chatter away to his new-found friend, telling him the history of his childhood and school days in old England. The son of a parson who was blessed with the usual "quiver full," he soon had to leave a parental roof-tree, and, like many others, had picked out America as the promised land of fortune.

This wholesome English boy, brought up in gentle surroundings, young, strong, and artless, had taken quite a fancy to this partner of his, who was a much older man. Reticent to a degree, he offered no confidences to his English friend, but when the day's work was done would listen patiently to the joyous anticipations of the other, occasionally interjecting a remark on subjects quite beyond the range of his more cultured but less experienced companion. He taught the Englishman many strange things in woodcraft, how to swing an axe, set a trap, and throw a diamond hitch, and so the weeks wore on harmoniously enough as they wended their way towards the land of wealth.

The long, cold, dreary Winter is past, the white mantle of the snow is slowly disappearing from the foot hills, the welcome Spring has come at last. Vast flocks of noisy geese are swiftly making their way North in great V-shaped formations, all day and night the loud "Honk-honk!" of their leaders can be heard announcing their return to northern feeding grounds. Green blades of grass timidly poke their heads through the ice-encrusted plains. Birds twitter in the sunlight, tiny streams begin to trickle towards the great rivers, now starting to break loose with a mighty roar, and Nature seems to awaken from her long deep sleep, stretch herself, and smile.

At the Fort all is bustle and excitement. This is the season when " traders yawn and the noble redman gives up his furs." In groups of three and four the Indians congregate at their great annual bargain-counter. Stealthily a tall aborigine approaches the counter in the Hudson Bay store, and to the uninitiated, only accustomed to the business methods of civilization, he looks for all the world like a burglar about to secure the family plate. Just watch him as he silently stalks the company's clerk, who, knowing full well the artful little ways and manners of the noble savage, keeps his back carefully turned towards him.

The Indian, after a cautious look round, puts his hand under his blanket and quietly separates himself from a large beaver skin, which he lays on the counter with a pronounced grunt, pointing up at the shelves for something that takes his fancy.

If it is a dry goods transaction, the old lady will most likely take a hand in it, and when the urbane clerk has snipped off a dozen yards of dress goods, she will contribute a couple more grunts to the general conversation. The clerk then throws the dress goods at the warrior and chucks the beaver skin under the counter. This may go on for a week or more. The clerk does not say: "What can I show you next, madam?" or "This shade is very much worn this Spring." He generally waits patiently with his back to the counter in the most indifferent manner that he can assume, apparently with the design of impressing the native with the idea that he, the clerk, is doing him a great favour by giving thirty cents. worth of red flannel for a four-dollar beaver skin.

Long lines of traders' carts are now to be seen leaving the Fort, their wooden axles screeching, as they wend their way eastward, heavily loaded with rich furs, destined to grace the fair shoulders of many a haughty dame, for, after all, nowadays it is notable far cry from Red River to Regent Street.

Languidly resting, with one elbow on the counter, is a tall weather-stained stranger, who seems to take but little interest in his surroundings and hardly deigns to notice the motley group of Indians, half-breeds, and traders, passing and repassing him continually. His unkempt beard, long hair, and patched clothes show him to be a prospector newly arrived from the mountains. He is uncommunicative and alone.

For a day or two the stranger loafs round the Fort buying a few necessities and trimming himself, as is customary upon reaching the outposts of civilization, before setting out on the long journey East. There were no railways in those days out there. But fate had decreed that he should not make that journey, for even then the mysterious hand of Providence, call it what you will, was upon the collar of that lonely stranger.

The historian tells us that an old reliable employee of the wonderful Hudson Bay Company, possessed of all the instincts of the trapper, thought he recognized the stranger, and in his own mind identified him as the partner of our young English friend who passed through there not many months before in search of gold. This garrulous old gentleman communicated his belief to the sergeant of police on duty at the Fort, who in turn paid a visit to the stranger and subjected him to the "Third Degree," with the result that the sergeant reported to his superior officer that there were mysterious circumstances surrounding the stranger's appearance in their midst, and that he had consequently detained him. The stranger was subjected to a series of cross-examinations, and acknowledged his identity with the man who had gone North with the young Englishman.

He said that after being together many months, they had quarrelled and eventually separated, the Englishman deciding to seek his fortune alone, while his former partner determined to return to civilization. While these enquiries were being prosecuted by the Mounted Police, a small band of Indians travelling South came upon the signs of a deserted camp, and noticed the remains of a camp fire, much larger than usual. In poking through the ashes they discovered several metal buttons. There was a poplar tree overspreading the spot, and one wise old squaw, looking up at the leaves on the tree, sagely observed that "they had been cooking much meat here," as she could detect grease upon the under side of the leaves. These circumstances were duly reported to the police, and a couple of men were sent up to examine the place, taking with them some of the Indians.

It was an ideal spot for a camp, a poplar glade, near a shallow pond or "slough." There were the remnants of the camp fire where the tell-tale buttons had been unearthed by the Indians. The ashes were carefully raked away, and very soon the charred remains of human bones were disclosed. The little pond was next dragged and a sheath knife brought to the surface.

The police then utilized the services of the Indians in draining the miniature pond, with startling results. A small sovereign purse was discovered, and this it was that told so eloquently the dreadful tale of base ingratitude and murder. Swift justice followed. The stranger in the guard room, although confronted with these damning details, stuck to his guns and denied his guilt. The circumstantial evidence was too strong. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged.

Then when the Springtime gradually melted into glorious Summer, when warmth and gladness smiled upon that Far Northern country, just as the golden sun rose over the distant foothills, a lonely, friendless, wretched, pinioned murderer slowly mounted the scaffold, gazed heavenward for a moment, and without a single word paid the awful penalty decreed by British law.