Then there was the great moral support of the Commissioner. In those anxious days when the temper of the crowd was sweeping towards its climax, he often recalled the Commissioner's encouraging farewell on his transference to the gold area: 'It's the last bit of true pioneering this country will see, Adair.... It will be a big job—one of the biggest we've ever done, ... but it will be a splendid thing in the way of a crowning achievement to all you've done already. Make it a credit to yourself and Canada.' These words were to him a tremendous driving force, a great source of inspiration. Remembering them, he could feel that, though thousands of miles lay between him and headquarters, though Black Elk Territory was cut off from the rest of Canada, there was still at headquarters a keen, strong personality, watching his every move intently, pouring bright rays of faith and power and confidence in his direction.
Greater than all this, however, was the moral support lent him by the people of Canada—the real Canada, beyond the mountains. He knew that its weight was behind him. With each mail he received letters and papers telling him that this was so. Politicians—Welland's political tools and henchmen—might be against him. But the people, the great, long-suffering, oft-deluded and victimised people, whose hearts could not betray them—from coast to coast they knew that in Superintendent Adair they had a man. They recognised his strength and integrity, and they trusted him to see that the dignity of Canada was maintained, the law of Canada enforced, in Black Elk Territory. With such support, Hector felt that he would gladly stand against the world.
One item in particular, clipped by Hugh from a powerful Eastern paper, voiced the general feeling well. Hector had read it, wavering between amazement and humility. It was high-flown nonsense, of course; but, with the storm fast closing upon him, he found much comfort in the memory of its sentiment.
'In Superintendent Adair'—it ran—'the Canadian people have a worthy representative. He is a fighter, born and bred, son of a veteran of the Peninsula and Waterloo. So he is a living link with the Empire's great traditions, with the blood of British heroes in his veins. Adair was brought up for an officer; and to those who know him he is the personification of the best type of British officer, whose soul is in his corps, who thinks only of the steep and narrow path of Duty. But he is more than that. Fate killed his prospects of an early Commission. Nevertheless, being determined to serve, he joined the original North-West Mounted Police and fought his way up through ten strenuous years to commissioned rank. And he has continued to advance ever since. Today he is looked upon in the West as the embodiment, in one individuality, of the entire North-West Mounted Police. And the comparison is apt, for we find in Adair all those high qualities of devotion, ability, firmness, strength and determination which we have learned to expect of the Mounted Police. Some even speak of him as the embodiment of Western Canada. And this too, is apt, for he has grown up with the country, kept up with and done much to aid its advance. And the qualities we attribute to Western Canada, once more, are Adair's. Out there, they call him by the name the Indians gave him—Manitou-pewabic—a tribute to his personality, for the phrase means 'Spirit-of-Iron.' Surely this is the spirit which has made not only the man, but the Force to which he belongs and the country which is its environment—Spirit-of-Iron!
'This is the man today responsible for maintaining the Queen's authority in Black Elk. He has a desperate job on hand. We have heard of the unrest sweeping the Territory from end to end—unrest which may end in serious trouble. Cut off from the rest of Canada and with only a handful of men, Adair is sitting on a powder-barrel. That the disgruntled cut-throats returning from the country are so loud in their abuse of the Superintendent, however, is the greatest possible tribute. Adair has handled many such in his time and none has ever beaten him.... Whatever may yet happen in Black Elk, Adair may rest confident that Canada looks to him. And, on their part, the Canadian people may rest confident that the country's honour is absolutely safe in the care of this modern Lion of the North.'
'The personification of the British officer ... and of the Mounted Police ... and of Western Canada ... this modern Lion of the North'! Rubbish! Nonsense! But there was more truth in this article than Hector would recognize. At any rate, with the words before him, he was resolved humbly to do his best to serve these people, resolved firmly to see that, while life remained to him, whatever lay ahead, he would not fail them.
III
The exodus of miners from the creeks to the towns was now reaching alarming proportions. It was known to all men that the unrest and discontent was risen almost to high-water mark. No violence had been preached. The law-abiding element, from the Lieutenant-Governor down, had no idea that there was organisation in it all and still less that the real purpose of those secretly behind the movement was swift—perhaps bloody—revolution. But they sensed a menace vaguely—like horses in a field, restlessly switching tails and ears when a tempest is in the air.
From the Lieutenant-Governor down, they placed their confidence in one man—Spirit-of-Iron. The Lieutenant-Governor, among many others, had, in fact, told him so.
"They're going to spring something, Adair," he had said. "Nothing extreme. But they're going to ask for my resignation. They don't trust me. But you can handle them. Adair, I'm afraid it will be up to you."