Canadian Transport Sourcebook

Chapter XV

The Sheriff

I remember once travelling West with William White, General Superintendent of the Western Division in his car on in inspection trip. When we arrived at Golden, B.C., being rather tired of our own society, I suggested that I should introduce the sheriff of British Columbia, who was a well-known character to me and everybody else out there, for the amusement of Mr. White, who was a stolid serious Scotchman, but had a real sense of humour somewhere concealed about his person. He was a fine type of the old Railway man and had worked up to his present position on the C.P.R. from a Station Agent on the old Grand Trunk.

I had no trouble in collecting the sheriff and produced him after dinner to enjoy the hospitality of the General Superintendent's car. I remember him well; I can almost see him onward, a trim-built, grey haired man, with a florid complexion, sharp steel-blue eyes, who was always alert and resourceful, a brilliant conversationalist, and ever ready to give you the benefit of his marvellous and numerous experiences. He had Baron Muchausen "skinned to death," and upon the slightest provocation, this distant relative of Ananias would reel off the most astounding recollections. He had been a Mounted Police officer in Australia, a Prospector, Miner, Soldier, Sailor, Farmer and now held the proud position of Sheriff, presiding over a country with an area of many thousand miles.

He would talk by the hour and when pipes were lighted and Fort Benton Benzine circulated freely he would paralyze the "tender foot" with weird tales in which he was invariably the unscathed hero. He generally addressed himself apparently to some imaginary Chairman and when the dénouement of some blood-curdling lie had been reached, he would look round the gaping audience with a look of defiance in his steel-blue glittering eye and with one hand on the hilt of his six-shooter would glare at his astonished victims, plainly saying, "Let some one of you fellows dare to deny what I said."

It was in the heart of the Rocky Mountains and wild animals were in fashion that evening. Grizzly Bears had the floor. "Talking of bears, Gentlemen," said the modern Munchausen, looking threatengly round upon the assembled Company, "reminds me, as you probably all know, when riding through these hills I generally use a Mexican saddle and always carry a horse-hair lariat on the horn of my saddle. Well, sir, I was coming along the trail the other day, not thinking of anything special, when, sir, what do you suppose I saw ahead of me? A grizzly, sir, yes, sir, the largest bear I ever saw in my life; on account of the roaring of the river I suppose he never heard me coming; well, sir, it didn't take me a minute. I just whipped off my lariat, and quicker than you could say knife I had roped that bear. Now, sir, what happened? (Glaring round for the least sign of unbelief) I found the lariat tightening up, and, sir, looking down I found myself horse and all, sir, where? Why, fifty feet off the ground. Yes, sir, that bear had climbed one of those tall Douglas Fir trees and there I was. Well, sir, what did I do? (Pause, giving time for murmurs of wonder). Well, sir, I just whipped out my sheath knife, cut the lariat and dropped to the ground."The old gentleman invariably told all his marvellous yarns in the same fashion, asking the phantom Chairman questions and answering them promptly himself. If any greenhorn ventured to hazard a guess at the sequel, he would wither him up with one swift indignant scowling glance, and say: "No, sir, I did nothing of the kind, I knew better" and then wind up the oft-told barefaced abomination in a blaze of glory.

One of his favourites, easily led up to by any of the boys who had may a time and oft suffered under his bewildering romances, related to his experiences in Australia.

Apropos of nothing, the old prevaricator would burst forth suddenly. "Well, sir, when I was in the Mounted Police at Ballarat, I had to take seven prisoners down country, a matter of two or three thousand miles. I only had a sergeant and two men with me. Well, sir, after sixteen days and nights hard riding, no sleep, mind you, sir, we were absolutely done out. My men couldn't stand it any longer. Well, sir, what did I do? When we camped that night, I said, 'Give me a shovel.' We dug seven holes, put the prisoners in, buried to their necks, tamped the earth round them, and then we had supper and turned in; never had such a delicious rest;—slept till daylight. Turned out, sir, no prisoners to be seen, not a single head—Wolves, sir. Yes, sir, wolves."

Another favourite one he used to tell was about the early mining days. I think the old Ananias must have been a "forty-niner." "Well, sir, when I was a young man trying to make my way up to the mines in Australia, we never carried any tents, the heat was awful and we simply threw ourselves down under a gum tree at night. We used a sheep-skin to sleep on. Well, sir, I had a beauty, it must have been off a freshly skinned sheep, but, sir, although the wool was thick, the ground was hard, and at first I couldn't sleep. I tossed restlessly about till nearly dawn, when gradually I felt my bed getting softer, and softer, quite springy, like a wire mattress. I fell into a delightful slumber and when I awoke the sun was high in the heavens, bursting through the foliage of the enormous Blue Gum tree and scorching my face. I looked down and found that I was at least four feet above the hard backed ground. Well, sir, what was the reason? Maggots, sir. Yes, sir, millions of maggots!"

A sigh of approval escaped from the interested gallery, and then the old Past Master of the United Order of Independent Liars would go on to remark: "Well, sir, I was once up in the Caribou Gold Mines in the early days, and after working our claim all summer, somebody had to take the gold down to the Mint. I was selected for the job. It was just the beginning of winter, but the snow was already very deep, so I started alone on snowshoes with over sixty thousand dollars in dust and nuggets on my back. (The cheerful old prevaricator evidently forgot that amount of gold would weigh over three hundred pounds). I made good time, as I was a young man in those days, and soon arrived at the head of Kamloops Lake, fifty miles long, yes, sir, fifty. What did I find? The snow had disappeared and the lake was glare ice. It was sixty below zero. Well, sir, what did I do? took off my snow-shoes and put on my skates, skated down that lake, sir, going over twenty miles an hour. When I was half way down I heard a noise behind me like dogs barking, took a look over my shoulder—what did I see? A pack of wolves, yes, sir, wolves, over fifty of them coming after me like mad, their eyes staring out of their heads and shining brightly and their red tongues just as plain as I see you. In a second I knew what to do. I suppose I was fully five miles off the land, but I could distinguish the figure of a man working in a garden near the shore. I turned and skated like a man will skate with a pack of hungry wolves after him, and getting closer every minute, too. got there just in time, sir, I could almost feel their hot breath on the back of my neck. The man was hoeing potatoes. Threw down my pack, pushed the man over, seized his hoe, and faced the wolves—killed over thirty of them, sir. Yes, sir, over thirty, I said, and the rest ran away."

Mr. William White's solemn Presbyterian countenance, after holding its own during the recitation of this procession of bare-faced lies, which I had often suffered under, now broke out into a bewildered smile. I do not think he had ever encountered such a finished Munchausen. The Sheriff was invited to have a drink and another cigar and escorted to the platform. We said farewell to the Prince of Prevaricators and were on our return journey before morning.