NAKED IN SNOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 910, 1 March 1930, Page 28

NAKED IN SNOW

ROUNDING UP QUEER SECT IN NORTHERN CANADA VARIED DUTIES OF POLICE The duties of the Royal Canadian j Mounted Police are strange and i varied. In the following article, j George Roberts, once a member of the | Force, tells of some of them. I Tlle queerest adventure that ever j came my way, and an illuminating ! sidelight on the sort of jobs the Royal j North West Mounted Police (as they | were then called) are called upon to J do, was in relation to a sect of j religious fanatics, who held the j queerest beliefs imaginable. | They are called the Dhoukobors, ; and they are a large colony of RusI sian emigrants who settled down in ! Saskatchewan, where they became | known as the “Spirit Wrestlers.” I They originally came from Southern | Russia, and were of rather small .stature. I knew nothing at all about ("them until one day the order came along that a sergeant, a corporal, and four men were to make for the plains outside Saskatchewan, where the “Spirit Wrestlers” had broken loose. “The so-and-so Dhoukobors have gone scatty again," was how it was broken to me. | “Dhoukobors?” I asked. “What | the devil are they?” I “Queer fellers -who strip themselves | naked and wander all over the j blinkin’ plains looking for the Lord,” was the graphic if irreverent reply. “Well—what’s that got to do with us?” I essayed. “You’ll bloomin’ soon see,” responded the sergeant grimly, “when you get a few hundred naked women running around wild, and trying to dodge having some clothes put on them.” I must confess .hat the prospect rather startled me, though, by this

time, I was growing accustomed to the variety of our tasks. A party of six of us set out to gather in the Dhoukobors, and to take them back to their homes, clothed and in their right minds. On the journey out I learned a bit more about this quaint sect from the sergeant who had had more than one previous experience of them. “Silly lot of devils,” he assured me. “Every blooming so often they take it into their heads to get rid of everything they’ve got, strip themselves stark naked, and run amok all over the plains. They burn all their belongings, destroy all the crops, and then start singing psalms all the way along the route. Wonder they don’t perish in the blooming cold! “As for the women,” he went on, “they’re the strongest, spitefullest, women I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. They struggle and fight like demons.” WEIRD PROCESSION Eventually we came upon them, and never shall I forget the sight of that weird gathering of men, women and children, of all ages, streaming out over the plain, heedless of the biting cold and as naked as they were born. They simply meandered along the trail, singing, praying, chanting, and clapping their hands from time to time. When they saw us coming they halted, and some of the leaders held a consultation. Our worthy sergeant rode ui>, and without more ado addressed them sternly and firmly. “You can get back as quick as you like,” he told them, “there's nothing doing along this way, we’ve been , on the look-out and there s no one about. Catch your death of colds, you will. Go on—get on with it, I’m not hanging about here while you hold a soiree.” I don’t know whether the Dhoukobors understood, but they did not waste much time in argument but turned about and retraced their steps. The sergeant led the way with another constable at his side, and I was on one of the flanks. I could scarcely believe my eyes. There were women —mothers carrying their little babes clasped to their breasts, their hair was flowing out behind them in the wind like a mane, and the dishevelled unkempt appearance of the men made them look as though they had stepped from the pages of a hook on primeval savages. And all the time they chanted and sung. All the time their eyes ceaselessly roved around in all directions, seeking the One they had come to seek. There was tragedy as well as comedy in that trek back to a near-by village, where word had already been sent to prepare for the coming of the Dhoukobors. Struggling Women Once there the real trouble began. We commandeered all the old clothes we could, and folks were very good, bringing up all sorts of supplies. Women came along to assist us, and, of course, we left the women to them while we tackled the men. Not that there was anything in the shape of false modesty about the proceedings, for the men and women themselves saw to that. The men were just—perhaps not quite—as bad. They linked their arms together in bunches of about 50 and, hanging on like grim death to each other, they did all they knew to prevent us from covering their nakedness. We managed it at last, however, and then headed them back to their colony, where they promptly set to work to repair the ravages and ruin they had wrought, until such time as they had another call to go out on their search. Rather more romantic, if less exciting, was an adventure which befell me while I was up in the Yukon territory. Frost Bite X had been sent up to Nome with a corporal and another man to look for a half-breed who had shot one of the

diggers in Dawson and then brokeh the trail for the North. We struck fog, blizzards, and rain on the way up, and I often wonder now how we survived. The other constable was a good-looking youngster who had not been long in service. By the time we reached Nome we | were reduced U biscuits and some ! cheese which we had been wise enough ito collect at our last halt. It was at i this place that the first strange thing ! happened. We had entered saloon and called for drinks, and I could see | the storekeeper regarding my chum j rather keenly. \ Presently, the fellow called me ! aside, and in a whisper said to me: i “Blimy—your mate is just like a gal in old D ’s saloon in Dawson —she ! might be his sister they're so much ■ alike.” I shook my head. “No,” I replied. : “It couldn’t be —we came through Dawson, and went to D ’s, hut there was nobody like him there. The corporal decided t set out the next morning with some dogs, and so we joined in the fun with the diggers, dancing, singing, and making merry generally. They’re great boys when they are out on the “bust,” and nothing was too good foi us. The Locket | I had not said anything to my pal about the remarks of the storekeeper, but later while we were dancing with some of the girls who always flock to these places when the miners are about, no matter what the weather may be. like, I saw him stop stockstill, and then, with a grim set face, walk across to a rugged faced miner who was sitting at a table fiddling about with a locket which was fastened on some stout string. “Where did you get this locket?” he demanded, and the man smiled lazily before he replied: “Say, ‘mountie,’ I got it quite honest. I didn’t rough anybody for it, if that’s what you’re thinking.” “Where did you get it?” my pal went on, his face pale, and a most anxious expression in his eyes. ‘I don’t care whether you got it honest or not. Where did you get it?” “Why?—what’s the matter, matey?” inquired the other with curiosty. “It ain’t crook stuff —it was given me down in Dawson.” “Who gave it to you?” went on my pal, still gazing with fixed eyes at the locket. “A gal I know—one of the best. Saved me from being rustled when I’d got a cargo of dust on me.” “Tell me where she is—l must know,” and with this the youngster pressed a catch and the locket flew open, revealing the picture of a girl. I saw the locket afterward, and the likeness between the two was amazing. “It is my sister—and we have not known where she was for four years. She ran away from home in Seattle. Some love affair, and we never heard from her again.” The rest of the story can be imagined. The girl had run away with her lover, who bad deserted her a few weeks afterward. She had been too proud to return home and acknowledge her plight, and had wandered about the country obtaining jobs here and theer, eventually finding herself at Dawson City. There she had become one of the dance saloon girls, and during one of the pilgrimages of the miners through Dawson she had met the man we found at Nome and had warned him against the presence of a gang of rustlers, always on the look-out for unsuspecting diggers who had made a strike. When he had left, after spending a week or two in the cty, he declared he would come back and take her away when he struck it real rich. After picking up our man at York City we made our way back, and there at the saloon in Dawson we found the girl, and there was a joyous reunion between brother P.nd sister.