————

-WAPTA FALLS
BUNGALOW CAMP

C. W. EADY, Manager

17 Miles East of Golden on Trans-Canada Highway
21 Miles West of Fiela

Clean and comfortable single cabins,
suites and rooms

Excellent dining room service at reasonable rates.
You can do your own cooking if you wish.

POST OFFICE LEANCHOIL, B.C.

Salute!
Ora. SPLEEN DIDEEORGE

THE CROWS’ NEST
PASS COAL CO.

LIMITED

FERNIE, BRITISH COLUMBIA

vo bits a drink was the price. If a miner
me in from Barkerville or the other min-
> camps it was the custom of the country
at he stand drinks for the crowd. When
first came, there was usually a game of
aw poker going on and sometimes two
three of them. Stakes were pretty high
times; I have seen and heard of some of
e large pots. It was in 1899 that a stop
is put to gambling in bars and the old
ners were pretty sore about it for a while.
ney thought it an invasion of British
erty and all that. The older men as a
le played solo or euchre for the drinks,
tt for money.

There was very little trouble at any time
any of the hotels. If a man began to get
sublesome or quarrelsome the proprietor
bartender would put him out, or if he
as stopping in the house lock him in his
om until he sobered up. There was a
neral regard for the law, and when a
ovincial constable said a thing they paid
tention to him. :

A Narrow ESCAPE

My old Stetson hat shows a clean cut
let hole through the crown of it within
| inch of my brains. It wasn’t any white
an that fired that shot. It was at Four
ile Creek, as it is generally known, but
so called Barlow Creek, above Quesnel,
at it happened. I was riding along on my
istomary patrol and also looking for an
dian that was wanted when I heard a
let whistle right by my ear, I knew it

OURTEENTH EDITION

had struck my hat but just at the moment
I wasn’t sure whether or not I had been hit
except that I wasn’t knocked out. I jumped
off my horse threw the lines down, and
dashed into the bushes. Out of the corner
of my eye I noticed where the trunks of
two cottonwoods were cut by the bullet.
I hooked out my gun and dived in but when
a second shot did not come I knew it was
no white man. It took me some little time
but I had the satisfaction of getting Mr.

Indian and later on, of seeing him sent up
for attempted murder. What I was to arrest
him for was of no great importance so that
while I had a narrow escape it was an
unlucky shot for that Indian.

A NOotTED DESPERADO

The hardest men, the “hard boiled” ones,
as they call them nowadays, are the best
to handle; they make better prisoners than
the sneaky, cut throat class, the devils who'll

B. C. Express leaving Ashcroft for Clinton, 1890

Page Sixty-one