Mr. George Martin
I look back upon these days as if they were a thousand years back, well as you see, they are only sixty years, this year, I came up to this country.
Reminds me very much of a thing that actually happened down there. We had a lad in the bank — one of these dedicated Irishmen, like most of all the north are — wasted very few words on anything, if he can. The main thing was he liked the horse and the dogs, more than a gun or anything like that, you see. He was very polite. There was one old lady there, belonged to the old bunch — of what they used to call the Irish that landed after the potato famine, down east — down Drummondville, and down there. Very, very ignorant, they had never been in more than the little circle outside, you see. So Mr. Mead tried to be nice and get the Irish Times over, which was then, and is today, a most beautiful book. In those days it pictured all those lovely homes, you see, all those different mansions and things. And this fellow said, “And that’s my Dad, you see.” That’s why they sent him the picture there. He was sitting up on this box, riding two beautiful black horses. And she always used to say, “Mr. Mead, is that really in Ireland.”
He said, “It is, Mrs. Boyd, and believe it or not all the people in Ireland are wearing clothes now.”
“That settled it, she never came in to see him for months after that, even to collect the papers. That’s what I think, a lot of people don’t realize that that’s not too far back, you know, really. Even I can remember that.
He and his brother, his brother was in the Peace River Branch — both away over six feet tall — just as soon as they heard of the war, they made their way back to England. Both of them were killed. I was just looking up their records here. This is a record of all the fellows who enlisted, in the bank, in the first war, all those that were decorated, and all those that were wounded. You see, we used to keep track of them there. Because all the banks had a tremendous record. There is no record in Canada for any particular month, that equals the number that enlisted from the banks. Four-fifths of these people were from Britain. Later on you got Canadian born, the younger ones. But these chaps some of them had only been out two or three years, you see. Same as at Lake Saskatoon. Have a look at the honour roll there. I can wander over with you, and you will find that of anyone that enlisted, say previous to the end of 1915, eighty-five percent were British born. And that applied to the whole of Canada. You can add a few more records. There were more enlistments in Edmonton, during the entire first war, than in the whole province of Quebec.
Those things don’t sound very much, but they answer a lot of questions. They certainly answer the questions, as people say that the first contingent was eighty-five percent British born. You never get any credit for it, of course. Of course, I think its natural, after all, 1914 was a long time ago, you know, in the life of this country. Also you’ll find, you’ll find it right up to the end of the war there — that the voluntary enlistments in the west, were much more than in the east. You have all those figures, you can follow them up, it follows the same way. It follows down the same as religion too, its all the same.
It was exactly the same in this last war, as far as Quebec was concerned. The Quebec boys would tell you point blank, and quite seriously. “I’m not going over to fight a war for England, I’m not going to fight for them. For as soon as the man, he lands on my shore, then I’ll get mad and fight.” Well that’s why they were late of course, to decide when to fight. It just repeated itself in the last war. Now, you see, towards the end of the last war, the attitude was different, you got a lot of first generation men, you see, naturally, because on account of the years of course. I don’t know about the next one. I don’t think there is going to be a next one.
Well, you would like to hear my brief history?
Interviewer: “Yes sir.”
“There is not much about Lake Saskatoon, you see. The week I was sixteen, was when I went into the bank. I was in the old Eastern Townships bank, which is one of those small banks, in Quebec. I was working in Sherbrooke, Quebec, and I went into several branches. They kept coming up and saying they needed volunteers for the west. Well, my dear, the west was the wild and woolly west, you know. You went to the Hudson Bay there, and you took out a few provisions in one hand, and a stone jug of rum in the other, to balance, you see. So just as soon as I saw that town I volunteered for the west. So in 1911 the beginning of 1912 I got transferred to Winnipeg which was the headquarters for the central west, you see, including this country, because this had been established before we were a province, you see.
I reported to Winnipeg, – my goodness there was a great big office – a couple of hundred people, mostly men, working in it, you know. I had just been there about three or four months, thinking it wasn’t so bad, when I got sent out to a little place where the C.P.R. got paid regularly, and got on cash. It used to take you years before you were a teller in those days. Started working away there, and there was a message came in from the central headquarters, it said, “Did you volunteer for the west.”
I said, “Yes, I got this far.”
“Well,” he said, “How would you like to go to the Peace River Country.”
I said, “That’s just fine. Right away?”
“Well it depends on what you mean by right away. But within forty-eight hours anyway.”
I said, “I’ll be ready.”
“So I did, and landed up in Edmonton. That was sometime in August 1913. And I was to meet an inspector there, you see. Which I did. He was in Central West too. There was a story about him. Because they were expecting their first baby, he would go outside, his hands behind his back, and walk up and down. Drove me crazy, you see.
So anyway we got to Athabasca, by train. And then we got on the boat. We carried quite a bit of money, between the places – grub stake – of course. We got as far as Mirror Landing, and Mr. Henderson had forgotten the main thing, his inspection returns. The thing he would never let me tote. I had to tote the whole of the big bags, and his big coat, and all this, but not that bag, you see. When they travel like that, they take the last years inspection, you see, to compare them, you see. Of course, this was the branch’s first real inspection. So they just had one come by mail and put it together, a general idea and report. Anyway he left that in Athabasca. So we had to wait for the boat to turn around and take its time, and go all the way back to Athabasca. And he left me stranded in Mirror. The mosquitoes – right in August, you know. And all the rivers, right up to the North Pole, were flooded that year, I think. The mosquitoes were something terrible.
Anyway, Mr. Henderson made his way back. There was a great big poolroom there. They were making a town there. There was nothing there, not a single thing there. But there was ten miles of streets already but through the brush, you know. There was huge fires, all over the place. There was this great big pool-room there, it was made of green lumber, you could see through the thing. All I remember of that, was this great long bunch of boards there. There were about seven or eight gangs of men; mostly Norwegian axe men. All this property had been sold in Edmonton, Calgary, and goodness in Timbuctoo. You would get in there, and see it all drawn there, and on panels of wood – this is such and such a street, this is where the church is going to be, this is such and such a bank. They had a beautiful bridge over the river – really a modern thing, you know.
So anyway I stayed there. I remember the main thing was, some fellows kept saying, “When are you getting more of that hard cider in.” Cider from Ontario cost twenty-five cents for a little wee jug, but it was pretty powerful stuff, you see. Of course it went out in no time. The old man, told me once, confidentially, you know, “When it gets down low, it gets pretty strong, so I put about a gallon of water in.”
I said, “I thought there was something wrong with it.”
Anyway Mr. Henderson came back, and we had to walk sixteen miles, over the portage, to get to another small steamer, which was on the Lesser Slave River, you see, to get to the Lesser Slave Lake, and down this muddy little river there. Anyway we made it.
There was an awful bunch of mules. Everything had to be brought in. Everything to feed the animals with, you see. So we made our way up terrible mud, as many as sixteen mules on one outfit, pulling these things along, and they had horses ahead that were working, and they had to keep taking feed to them. What with two hungry horses, we were always walking back the other way, taking feed up to them then having to walk back. That’s how I figured it. We didn’t get very far. The railroad of course, just the right-of-way was being built through there, at the time.
So anyway, we landed there, and inspected the little branch of the bank in the town there. And when we got there it was Indian Treaty Day. And it turned out to be funny. Because Mr. Henderson was something of a martinet, very much the idea of an officer. Fellows like he had done to inspect why they might be as high as a sergeant, but no higher. Me, I guess I was just a baggage man or something. I carried the bags. So when he heard that this chap, at three o’clock in the afternoon wasn’t in the office, he said, “Mr. Martin, would you look into this right away, and make a report of it.”
I said, “It’s a funny way to bank, it’s not my idea of things there.”
He was over helping the Indian chief you see – not the chief – but the Indian Agent that was paying out. It was all one dollar bills, always of course, it was always one dollars bills. They paid five up further north. So they always used the bankers to get in about a couple of thousand new one dollar bills, never been paid out before, never. The Indians think there is more money that way, you see, when they’re not dirty, and that the Great White Mother thinks an awful lot of them to have these bill printed for them. I think it’s a nice idea too.
So anyway, I go after to Mr. Waters there. And the Manager says “He’s just doing the usual thing. We always send a man over when its treaty time, to help out, and carry the money and everything, you don’t have to guard it at all. He just goes and counts it. He gets five dollars for his day’s work. Ten hours, you see. That was pretty good pay, you see. So I said to Mr. Henderson all right.
I went over to this camp, who should I notice, I could tell right away, he was the only white man there, outside of the fellow who was doing the actual paying there. The paying was all over with, and they had a bonfire built in the centre, a great big bunch of hot tea going on, and bannock, they put saskatoons in it, you know. And sometimes they would use it for ammunition after a few days. They fry it in grease, you know, and it gets real solid, then they get mad with a fellow, they get a slab of that and it knocks him out cold. The saskatoons is just an addition to it.
There I see this fellow, Mr. Waters. He’s got leather pants on, moose hide, you know, with fringes down. He had a beautiful decorate shirt, and he’s going, “hi – hi – hi”, dancing around with the rest of them, having a wonderful time. So in the end I singled him out, told him who I was. I said, “The Inspector is waiting for you at the office.”
He said, “Hell with him.”
“Same as I would have said. He was feeling too good after that. Anyway I got him there. And then he got quite a lecture from Mr. Henderson, who afterwards was very sour about the whole thing and said it was a stupid affair.
So anyway, we only spent three or four hours there. There was absolutely nothing there. And there was just the two of them in the office. So Mr. Bruce, the Manager, got his big canoe out, and took us across the lake to – what do they call that place? – anyway, this is the place where the Anglican Mission was.”
“Yes, Grouard. Yes, it is across the lake. So we went across there, and had a lovely afternoon tea. [ I knew these people later on, I can remember them, Archdeacon, somebody or other].
Interviewer: “Bishop Holmes?”
“No, no. There used to be brothers up here, at the Catholic Mission. Anyway, we had a very nice afternoon with the people there. They paddled us back through the weeds, to where we came from, which is the main part of Grouard, there.
We went around, and we hired an American, who had, I think they call them a mountain Democrat, a better way for traveling. And he said he would take up to Lake Saskatoon. We would have to pay feed for the two horses, and for himself – ten dollars a day. Which was quite a lot of money of course. It was quite a long way too. So it was fine, he was a very, very fine fellow to travel with. Great big fellow. Boy, he was handy. Believe it or not – he could be driving along, sitting on the top of his rig. And with his whip he could strangle a prairie chicken as he went along there. Well of course the darn things, there were hundreds of them, you know, and it was terribly wet. And you would get stuck in the mud, and these things were there, not worrying about you, they were sitting upon a little bank. I have heard about it since, never seen it done. I have even tried it myself.
He could always catch fish. To me, the water was always to muddy. The fish wouldn’t even look at me, but he could catch them. So I got into the habit of working, putting up the tent and starting the fire. Sure enough, by the time I got the two horses fed, he would be out with three or four fish, [like that,] and he’d turn right around and clean them, – well worth the ten dollars. I wasn’t paying for it anyway.
Anyway, it took us four days to reach High Prairie, from Grouard there. We got to High Prairie. I think there was a total of six rivers in flood. I have been over a lot of times since – I was always going to count them. There were six rivers and four of them we had to get an Indian on horseback to guide us across. I would go across – sitting on the high seat, you know, the spring in the back. Henderson holding up his precious little bundle of papers, and ten thousand dollars in cash, and he would hold that up, [like that,] a huge affair. I didn’t have many more clothes than I have these days, and that’s for sure not many. Stuck everything I had in an old horsehide coat, you know, of course that was out. We had quite a bit of stuff, and quite a big of grub-stake there.
Even in those days, I remember in Grouard, paying twelve dollars, for a four-point Hudson Bay blanket, which incidentally we still have one of them on up here. And the pillows were five dollars each, I remember that.
Anyway, eventually we reached Peace River, and what a beautiful sight, you know. Coming around the corner there, looking down at that beautiful river, after you spent about a total of eight days, coming eighty-five miles, you know. It was just wonderful.
So, he went out to spy the land, he didn’t trust me. He said I could go ahead and tell them we were coming or something. I just want to see what need spying out. So he went down – I suppose he inquired of someone on the way – the banks there, the fellow said, “Yes, they are still working, they generally work ‘till about five o’clock, they are awful busy, you know, there’s a lot of construction.” So he was pleased with that. He was going to inspect them on the way back.
The system was, to send someone up there, and about the same time they would send the relief for the man who had been up two years, you see. Mine had gone through, he had a better chance of going through, he had already gone through, which was just as good advice at Lake Saskatoon, that the Inspector would be along soon, you see. They were short a man then.
Anyway, we got there, and I met Knight. That night, we went down to the old “D.A. Thomas” there. They had a little Japanese cook, and he was really very wonderful there. And they had, what he called, Plank Whitefish. It was the first time I knew what they meant by Plank Whitefish. But he served it on a great plank [like this – so big]. It had nothing to do with a plank whitefish, you understand, but that was what he called it, because he figured that was what they meant, when they insisted on serving it on this plank, you see. Anyway, we had a wonderful meal.
Of course, the gardens were just wonderful. This was the beginning of September. Of course Peace River is the garden town on the river bank.
So we set out the next morning. We slept on the ground all the time, of course, most times it was pretty wet. At my age it didn’t make any difference. We crossed on the ferry, to the other side, and went – I don’t know what it is – twelve or fifteen miles – down to the Anglican Mission. Oh we were very churchy when we traveled. We had afternoon tea with the Bishop, or somebody or other. I think it was Archdeacon White, that was then at Grouard there. I forget this chaps name. They were very nice, they had a wonderful garden. I don’t ever remember, in Canada, seeing a garden like they had then.
Oh they had a few Indians around doing odd jobs, and getting good meals, you know. There was a couple of others besides the ministers wife, and a couple of other people, and they had real cream, I know. Everything was just lovely. They said visitors were so few and far between, they didn’t want to take a chance and not be ready, so they kept a cake on hand all the time, you see, to make sure.
We went down, following what was then known as the River Road, and there were several gardens on the way there. So eventually, we naturally reached Dunvegan, and took the ferry over there. I had a commission from a fellow in Winnipeg, he wanted me to look up his lot in Dunvegan, you see. I had it for years, I also had a picture postcard of the bridge across there. The railway across Dunvegan, that was 1913.
When I complained about that years later, a fellow says, “I got one of those,” you should read them closer,” he said “in very small print,” which I couldn’t even read, “The Proposed Bridge.” The railway bridge, and the C.P.R. was puffing away, old black smoke, there. And he wanted me to just describe it, if the streets were laid out, and everything. Well I got there, and saw all those little white things, sticking up, eight hundred feet above the water level, you know. Sticking up there – if you had built up there, you could have spit down the other fellows chimney, you see.
I did in due time write back to him that I had actually counted over three hundred and fifty of these little white things. I told him he had better forget the whole thing, because obviously – which is quite true – it did never amount to a nickel – they never did build the bridge until two or three years ago.
So we landed there, eventually we got as far as Sexsmith. Old Dave Sexsmith, he kept the stopping place there. We went in there, and stayed right inside. First time we stayed inside all the time we had been running around. Someone said, “Oh it’s a nice clean place, and everything, it only cost you fifty cents a night, you know.” Lovely tick of straw, it was just lovely. First thing you know you start scratching in every direction, and that was the first time I had done any scratching there. But he served a wonderful meal, also fifty cents, anything you wanted to eat, great big steaks and things.
So landed on Lake Saskatoon, of course, they obviously knew we were coming, because the other fellow would have told them by then, you see. That was alright. He stayed about three days and inspected there. So I worked there, that was the first week in September 1913.
I enlisted in July 1915, Marion and I were married on the 3rd of December, ‘15, while I was in the army. She gave me a lot of trouble, I got twenty-eight days pay slip stopped on account of her. I was only about three weeks absent with leave, anyway. He said, you have to get right back, he gave me nine days, nine days to come up here, nearest place then, was down at Pruden’s Crossing. You had to go and buy a horse, to work your way up here. Then I got up here, and I had to go about the same distance back again looking for someone that could issue a marriage license. That was even worse.
I was saying to her Father, “Do you think we have time for a wedding Mr. McNaught?”
“Tonight,” he said.
“That’s all we got out of him. So I went back, and they called me up in front of the Colonel. A very nice fellow there was explaining to the Colonel that I’d got married while I was away, and how far it was away. So they gave me twenty-eight days, so I lost a dollar a day for twenty-eight days, they couldn’t take you ten cents away, you see. So I got ten cents a day, that’s just subsistence, they couldn’t take that away at all, you see. I got that anyway. Then I did amaze the old man – the Captain. “I would like to get a sleeping pass, I think I persuaded my wife to come out here.”
He said, “Good God!”
After being told, that I should have my head taken off for being late – in case the battalion moved. As it was they never moved the next three or four months, you see.
I paraded before the Colonel, you know. The Sergeant and I went in. I forgot to take my hat off you see. I thought I’d keep my hat on so I could salute him, you see. I got half-way across the floor and the Sergeant Hrmp… This meant, “Take your hat off,” I found out afterwards. I didn’t understand the language. This fellow must have had awfully long nails, he just about – he took my head like this, you know – took my hat off like that. So the Colonel looks up suddenly, “Oh it’s you again, what this time?” So that broke the ice, you see. So the Captain spoke for me, and he says. “Well, all I got to say is, you should make a good soldier. A fellow that’s got the nerve you’ve got, and above all, got the nerve to get married, you should make a good soldier, permission granted.”
This man, you know, the famous McHenry, who incidentally built a famous dam, he was a cement man, an engineer. He was a pretty tough fellow, but he and his Adjutant were over in the Boer War there, and they married the sister of DeWett, the Boer General. Both of them had one heck of a time with them, in their married life. So he figures anyone that got married was either brave or stupid, you see.
So about two days later than that, someone says, “You’ve got to report to the Orderly Room.”
I said, “What for.”
He says, “You know, lad,” he say, “For some reason or other, the Colonel never trusts me with knowledge like that.” That’s all he ever said, he swore.
“Bank clerk,” he said. “How would you like to work in the pay-office.”
“Sounds alright,” I said.
We had been training since last July, and this was in January, you know, besides that, the bunch up here, were pretty well used to shooting and being outside, and everything, you know.
So I landed in the pay-office. Hung onto the job until we reached England, in fact. Left at five o’clock at night, just pushed my way by the guard in the morning at eight o’clock, and all he says was, “You lucky so-and-so.”
So, following the thing up, you know. We eventually went overseas, and got into some awful scraps.
That was at the Somme, there was tremendous carnage and things there. So I thought well! So I paraded up as usual, like quite a few of them, and they’d say, “Well this fellow here, you’re not to go, your brother was killed or something, you know. You’re not to go, because for them, we don’t need just now.” So it would work out. And the odd ones would get away and they sent me up to the London pay-office again.
So I got in touch with Marion and told her to come over. All my people were there, you see. So she did, right during the submarine campaign, of course. First time she had ever seen the sea, let alone go over it. Got over there, and just got settled there, and the order came, that everyone of a certain category should report back to their reserve bases, you see. Of course that was alright, I was fully trained, and I wasn’t worried about that.
So she went working in a munitions factory. She made these little shells, the size – that’s a German Krupp shell, that’s one of the originals, a 1914 one. So when she went in, she was making shells, then she was what you called a Brigadier of the division there that examined shells. So she would make one, and examine them as they went by. And she was living in the nearby town with my brother and his wife, you see. He’s eighty-seven now, still going strong.
I guess my last leave was in October 1918. The beginning of October. We were just beginning to hear rumors of the Armistice, you see. Marion said she wanted to go back to Canada. It was only a few days after they said to be ready for such and such a boat. So she got back, I guess just before the Armistice, probably, two or three days before the Armistice.
And me, poor little me. With my sore feet. I walked sixteen hundred miles over cobblestones after the war was over. I walked more over these darn cobblestones than I did all through the whole thing. Anyway, we stayed in Germany over Christmas, – oh for a long time. We got back to Canada, I think about the 20th of April.
When I got back, I reported at Lake Saskatoon, the railway was now at Grande Prairie. One Saturday, just as they were closing up. They used to open the half day there. He said, “Can you come back to work Monday morning.” This was the honeymoon we were going to have, you see. Still waiting for it, by-the-way. So that’s what happened. I reported back to work in that particular period then.
So Marion’s one of these people that have – I don’t know what they call them – British Women’s Auxiliary badges. In other words, she can join the Legion without joining the Ladies of the Legion. Because she’s cussed, she didn’t join any of them.
About Pouce Coupe. How that came into the thing was, after we had been back – this was in 1919, you see, the end of April 1919. In 1920-21 they ordered me up to Pouce Coupe to take charge of the bank, while the manager was away on his four month holiday. Having safely gotten out of all the hardships of the war, he demanded the three months leave he had been entitled to. Because they enlisted him in Scotland or somewhere, you see. And they said at the end of ten years you get three months leave. In this case, because he was away in the wilds of Pouce Coupe, why he got four months, you see. So our youngster was just a little over a year old, that’s Peggy. So we got a wagon, and put her in a baby carriage, and brought this load and drove up there, and we stayed in what was the bank house there. That was the time Mr. Morell was the chief man up there. And old Tommy Jamieson, Homestead Inspector. And Dr. Watson the doctor. I always forget the name of the bird that handled the big livery barn, I used to get more kick out of him. We were not too busy, you see, and we would go around there, we had some cattle. Hire a horse and go and round up the cattle there.
This fellow there, Durran. “Marion, what was the chap that ran the livery barn at Pouce Coupe when we were there?”
“Anyway, he was quite a character. He was quite friendly with the Judge that used to come in once a year, you see. Some bird was trying to make the odd nickel, so he was making, what he called, corn wine, you see. Of course it was all right as long as you just make enough for yourself. But he had seven or eight barrels – forty gallons in each barrel – so the Judge decided it must be for sale. Then he tried to say, “I just make it for my friends,” and he said, “It’s just a light wine, it’s just make right fresh, you see.” “I couldn’t entertain then, I only drank my wine,” he said, “They ate everything in sight, so I charged them fifty cents.”
The Judge said, “Alright, would you say the wine was potent.”
This old chap there, they turned to him, and he said, “Mr. so-and-so, I understand, that you are rather a good judge of liquor of any kind. Would you say that stuff was potent?”
And he said, “Potent Judge! I’ll say it was. Two drinks put me over the damn table so fast, I didn’t know how I landed there.”
The Judge said, “Guilty.”
So they fined him a little bit, you know.
Anyway, we got back to Lake Saskatoon in time to find a message waiting for us to get to Peace River, as accountant. We got all ready, and Marion got packed up. We got all the boxes labeled for there, then we got a message to change it and go down to Delia, where we stayed a heck of a number of years. Well anyway, that’s nothing about Lake Saskatoon.
Interviewer: “Was that old Judge Robertson?”
I don’t know. He used to come over the pass there, about once a year, I guess. I don’t know what his name was. Could be, that was a long time ago.
They looked for it as a great holiday, they used to come in, you know. It was a real holiday. They always picked up someone on the way and they had a good man to show them the way around the boat and the team, and a few dollars to do it with. I guess it was a real holiday.
Interviewer: “I think Mr. Martin was much too modest to say, that he was awarded the Military Medal on the 8th of August 1918, for bravery in the field, in bombing an enemy munitions train, and capturing a number of prisoners. He received flesh wound in the right shoulder at Passchendaele, November 1917.
“Some events at Pouce Coupe?”
I don’t know anything about that. McGregor went up there. That was the women who murdered her husband, and buried him under the potatoes.
Interviewer: “Never heard of such a thing. What did she do when she ate up all the potatoes?”
“Well, that was the funny part of it. The fellow at the bank, a very quiet bank, this fellow, also a bachelor. One of the only persons around who had a good car – had a Ford car, you see. So the policemen came along one day, and he said, “I’ve fixed it up with the Manager, you’ve got to come with me. We’ll borrow your car, we’ll pay for it.
So Mac said, “Alright.”
Figures he is going to make five dollars. So they drove up there, and they got this fellows body up that had been buried under the potatoes, wrapped it round in a blanket, put it on the front seat with Mac. And Mac was driving along a few feet and the body would keep falling over towards him. To hear him explain it, it was a most terrifying thing to him. He was so mad that they would do a thing like that. He said he wouldn’t do it, but the officer said, it is a command, just like that. Of course Mac said he did decide after awhile there was no doubt about the fellow being dead, and if he was dead he couldn’t hurt him too much.
He still swears that every time the body lurched, the dead man tried to put his arm around him, that’s what really terrified him, you see. I don’t believe that, you know.
Interviewer: “Was there another one. George mentioned two murders.”
In that year, you know, there was that chap that chopped the head off of about a dozen down here. I remember those things. I remember the one on account of Mac.
It was mixed up, this one up here, that did the murder there. Her husband was a schoolteacher, I think, or something or other. This one down here, Spirit River way. It keeps coming up every so often, new ideas as to what really happened, but I don’t think they ever really solved it. There was a tremendous amount of murdered people – he was on Lake Saskatoon there. They had a nice cabin there, and everything like that. They got a bunch of volunteers and went around the cabin. All these fellows, Mounted Police and a bunch of old soldiers, you know. In the night, the fellow drove up, outside somewhere, crept into the house, took one hundred rounds of ammunition and his two rifles, chased him right across the Wapiti, right down here somewhere. I don’t know what happened to him in the end. I used to know the fellow there. Saw the old men, thought he’d be able to get around these twenty men that went down there, with their old shotguns and things. He crept right in, right at night, and took their two guns and hundred rounds of ammunition with him.
And then there was one before that, that was before the war. When a chap ran away with a young girl, fifteen or sixteen or something there. Her people are out here. They chased him across the Wapiti. The fellow that did the chasing used to be an accountant in the bank years ago. And he quit the bank and joined up.
“Marion, who is the, you know, the chap that ran away with the girl, and they were caught across the Wapiti somewhere here. Chased him up.”
“Ace Hunting.” He didn’t really run away with her. Her Mother and family sort of neglected her. She was a child. An awfully nice youngster, and very young for her years.