Strong and steadfast Hector would have to be if he was to maintain the honour of the Adairs in the times before him. His feet were on the sunset trail. At its end was Life, swift and fierce and terrible. Years and years of battling through wild winters and blazing summers, on barren mountains, lifeless prairies, and death-dominated rivers lay before him and in that Western land the hands of many men—merciless Indians, murderous horse-thieves, gamblers, whiskey-traders and desperadoes—would be against him—against him and his comrades of the Police. He knew it. He knew that the Force would be but a handful scattered over a vast wilderness which it must protect and eventually free from the domination of innumerable enemies. He knew the greatness of the task to be achieved before the Flag could wave in security from sea to sea. Here was a wonderful opportunity, a real fight to win, a splendid objective. It should have frightened him. Instead he welcomed it. He was as fitted for the work before him as any man could be.
'Strong. Steadfast.'
Chapter II
I
At Winnipeg, straggling its hundred-odd houses, its dozen stores, its sturdy churches and its garish saloons along the muddy trail, the column found the entire population awaiting them. During the winter the Police had made many staunch friends. There were cheery greetings enough and to spare for Hector as he rode along with his comrades through the little crowd. Here was a shout and a wave from Big Jim Hackett, owner of the Hell's Gate saloon, there a smiling blush from pretty Miss Sinclair, one of the local lights, which drew upon him a volley of chaff. Stout, grizzled, jovial and 'unco' canny' Andrew Ferguson, the village baker, received him with a round of Gaelic and a burst of Cree which betrayed his parentage. Johnny Oakdale, the little hardware man with whom Hector had become pleasantly intimate when they erected stoves at the lower fort months before, gave him a shake of the hand which was worth a dozen noisier welcomes.
Now that the hour when he must part with these great-hearted friends was actually upon him, Hector found himself stirred with regret. Recalling happy times, he almost wished that he could remain in the settlement forever or, better still, take the entire population into the North-West with him.
II
Arriving at Dufferin, they joined in preparing for their tremendous march. The Commissioner and the rest of the Force came into camp, bringing more horses and wagons and an army of agricultural implements—they would be dependent entirely on themselves for food in the country to which they were going. A marvellous atmosphere took possession of the camp. The crews of the Golden Hind, the Santa Maria and the Nonsuch, which carried Drake and Columbus and the first officers of the Hudson's Bay Company into the new and unknown world, must have felt just such an atmosphere as they got ready for sea. La Verandrye, Champlain, La Salle were close kin to the men of the Mounted Police assembling at Dufferin.
Languid June drifted into the sunny splendors of July and the white-helmeted, red-coated little column began its march Westward.