1 Gallant Dog Goes West By HARRY E. TAYLOR “Reo” Was More Than a Dog, He Was an Institution Among British Columbia's Police and Game Wardens—Those Who Knew Him Will Join in This: Salute to {EN, IN MAY LAST, Reo died, there nped to the happy canine hunting inds, a hero of fifty manhunts, and a ~legged policeman familiar to police and lic in many parts of British Columbia. ‘0 his master, game-warden Don Ellis, loss must be immeasurable. The close panionship of eleven years, which in- Jed more than one brush with death sther, cannot be lightly effaced from nory, and, in the heart of the one who w him best, Reo will always live on. \ handsome Dobermann Pinscher, as ctionate as he was intelligent, his almost redible sense of smell led searchers on umerable occasions, to men and women o were lost in timbered lone-lands and untain jumbles. 3ut it was in the macabre realms of crime t Reo rendered such unforgettable vice. A GREAT POLICEMAN One of his most uncanny exploits was the Jing of an empty cartridge case, which erts claimed held the bullet which killed ink Hargreaves, who was found dead on cabin step at Jackman, in December five irs agone. With his eyes covered, Reo s allowed to smell a similar live cartridge. : four hours he searched in the snow, and ally found the empty case in a pile of od chips near the cabin door. Truly an azing demonstration of canine skill and tinacity. When, in 1938, a woman disappeared m Enderby, leaving a dramatic note in- ating her intent to destroy herself by namite, Reo then a very young sleuth, lowed her trail for five hours, after ting a sniff at one of her shoes. With erring sagacity he led the searchers along nsely covered mountain sides until tor- tial rains obliterated all scent. The man was never found. She left a signed nfession that she had set fire to the newly ‘lt house of a neighbour, and there is le doubt that she carried out her des- rate resolve of self destruction. Stranger in any fiction is the fact that, six months eviously, her father had similarly dis- peared, taking with him caps, fuse and namite, with the evident intention of ding his life the same way as his daughter. Fresh in the minds of many is the man- nt in the bush country below Barkerville 1941, after the notorious Smaaslet made DURTEENTH EDITION a Faithful Four-Footed Friend. his sensational escape from gaol near that historic mining centre. With only the faint scent from a blanket, which had been used by the fugitive whilst in gaol, to guide him, Reo trailed the vicious criminal in heavy rain, through almost impassable brush, until, shortly after dawn, the police closed in upon him. Smaaslet, almost invisible in a depres sion in the thick growth, started shooting, but surrendered after a brisk exchange of shots, in which Reo’s master, Don, played a prominent part. 3 In such wise did a Dobermann Pinscher rise to pre-eminence in the difficult art of Don Ellis and “Reo” tracking. Many a_ harassed policeman, faced with one of those baffling dilemmas which, at times, arise to face all policemen, has had just cause to feel grateful for acting upon a suggestion to “Send for Don Ellis and his dog.” When car thieves stole two cars in quick succession in the Vernon district, leaving both of them wrecked, it was Reo who followed their trail—through Coldstream Creek, up to the railway tracks, and down the road to where they were given a lift by a passing car. Then, from the wreck of the second stolen car, he traced the thieves into the Military Training Centre. We have often tried to vision the feelings of those runaway slaves who were pursued by bloodhounds through the fetid mangrove swamps in the Deep South. And we have sometimes dreamed, after a late surfeit of lobster salad, that we were being chased by the Hound of the Baskervilles. So we can appreciate the emotions of the three juveniles from down Vancouver way, who were tracked all of one long day by Reo, in the bush country between Chase and Notch Hill—and it really is bush thereabouts— after they had stolen firearms and ammuni- tion, and had embarked upon the time- honoured profession of banditry. Over more than twelve miles of heavy going did Reo lead the pursuers, before the trio were rounded up at nightfall, very tired and very scared, and quite willing to forego any further ambition to emulate Jesse James. Reo played a stellar part, too, in the trek after the bandit who grabbed five thousand in currency from the Pioneer branch of the Bank of Toronto, in 42. In fact, there seems to have been very few major crime cases, in recent years in which the eager black dog has not appeared. All dogs, of course, have remarkable powers of smell, judged by our poor human standard, but something else is needed be- fore a dog can begin to. think of emulating Reo. That faculty of scent has got to be developed to the nth degree. And there must be a high brand of courage, and unfail- ing tenacity of purpose. The will to keep going just that little while longer, when the going is extra tough, and the scent is bafflingly elusive, and the searchers are weary. Then it is that most dogs, after try- ing a few false scents, and feeling hungry and footsore, would bark to themselves, “Aw, what’s the use. There’s nothing in all this for me. Let’s call the whole thing off and get back to a warm kennel and a beef- steak.” Lost AND FOUND DEPARTMENT But not so Reo. He always stayed with it until the bitter end. If he should ever have been cast adrift and left to his own resources, he could have developed a most efficient and profitable “Found Property Bureau.” When Don Ellis and Charlie Shuttleworth, the famed cougar hunter, camped one night far from the madding crowd, and decided to fish away the remain- ing daylight, they found, to their disgust, that the reel was missing from the rod. To real fishermen, a rod without a reel is about Page Thirty-seven