The rider stopped abruptly and jumped from the saddle. Then a frightened Keane heard the double-click of a Winchester being cocked.
Twenty miles northwest of the U.S.-Canadian border town of Midway lies the site of the former boom town of Camp McKinney, British Columbia.
Here, high in the hills above Rock Creek between the Kettle and Okanagan Rivers, Camp McKinney’s main street, lined with saloons, a hotel and more saloons, bustled in hectic gold rush days.
British Columbia’s fabulously rich gold fields had drawn prospectors from all over the North American continent. The main reason for all the town’s activity — and its very existence — was the nearby Cariboo Mine, richest lode in the region.
Every few months, the mine’s output was melted down to gold bars for easier handling and taken by buckboard to the railway head, situated at Midway, where it was shipped to company headquarters in Spokane, Washington. As only two Provincial Police officers, Chief Constable W.G. McMynn and Constable Ike G. Dinsmore, were responsible for the entire Boundary District, a mounted guard of trusted miners usually escorted the bullion to the train depot. A great deal of secrecy surrounded the gold’s departure, as it was a great temptation to Camp McKinney’s rougher element.
Occasionally a company official would take the gold himself, at which time a number of armed miners would be sworn in at the last minute to act as escort.
On the day of the robbery, Aug. 18, 1896, A.D. Keane was mine superintendent. General Manager James Monoghan usually took out the gold bars but Keane, having some business in Midway, volunteered and, upon receiving instructions on shipping procedure at Midway, and precautions against being held up, he departed alone. In the back of his buckboard was a canvas bag containing three gold bars, one large, two small, and weighing approximately 656 ounces — valued, as I write this in May 2018, at $1,324 per ounce, for a total of $868,544 U.S.!
Two miles east of Camp McKinney, around a sharp curve, a masked man with a Winchester rifle lay in wait for the approaching superintendent. Minutes later, he had disappeared into the bush with the precious sack.
Hurrying back to town, the shame-faced Keane notified mine officials and a full investigation was begun, as word was sent to police.
In charge of the manhunt until police could arrive, Manager Monoghan ordered the town checked to see if any of the miners were missing. One could not be accounted for: Matthew Roderick, a Seattle miner who had been laid up because of a back injury and was due to leave for Seattle.
That afternoon, Officers McMynn and Dinsmore arrived and took command. During a second search of the area of the robbery, they spotted a patch of ground that had been disturbed by squirrels. Beneath the loose dirt were the remains of some apples, egg shells and a whisky bottle — all pointing to the missing Roderick. Eggs were a rare and expensive commodity in isolated Camp McKinney, and the only eggs around had been those brought in for the ailing Roderick, as had the apples. The whisky was a brand rare to the area, and bottles bearing the same label were found only in the rubbish pile behind Roderick’s shack.
Now sure of their man, and that he’d escaped across the border into Washington State, the investigation ground to a halt. Circulars with full details were sent out, mostly to the United States. Rewards totalling $2,500 were also posted.
Months later, with the aid of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, Roderick was found, living comfortably with his wife in Seattle. However, their secret surveillance, which included a woman detective becoming friendly with Roderick’s wife, detected no signs that he had or was spending beyond his apparent means.
Finally Seattle detectives tipped Midway police that they were sure Roderick was preparing a trip east. Eagerly, Provincial Police asked themselves if this was the break they had been waiting for. If Roderick did not have the gold in Seattle, it meant that he had probably cached it on the British Columbia side of the border and was now returning for it.
With a Pinkerton detective at his heels, Roderick left the train at Loomis, Washington, rented a horse — from the sheriff — and struck out for the Canadian border.
Through the cooperation of miners, mine officials, Indian guides and police, his progress towards Kettle Valley was easily noted, although the watchers were careful not to alarm the suspect.
Then, after swearing in the mine officials as special constables, Chief Constable McMynn and his small posse galloped in pursuit.
It was late in the afternoon of Oct. 26, 1896, three months after the robbery, that preparations for the staking out of every trail to Bald Mountain, the area for which Roderick was headed, were completed. Far down the main trail were Thomas Graham and an Indian guide on one side, Superintendent Keane on the other. McMynn stationed himself nearby.
Soon Grahame sent Keane word via the guide that he had spotted a lone horseman ascending the narrow trail. Dusk fell. Then it was 9 o’clock before Keane heard someone approaching him. But in the darkness he could see nothing. In vain, he tried to pierce the enveloping gloom as the sounds grew louder. Finally the outline of a horse and rider loomed up within a few feet of him, and he hoarsely whispered, “Is that you, Matt?”
The rider stopped abruptly and jumped from the saddle. Then a frightened Keane heard the double-click of a Winchester being cocked, and his Colt barked once. As the pistol’s report echoed through the valley, Keane lit a match and peered into the face of Matthew Roderick. He was dead, shot through the heart.
“I shot him; I had to do it or he would have killed me,” he said. “He had his gun up against my breast before I knew it.”
Arriving on the scene, Constables Cuppage and Deans and the others searched the bloody body. With the Winchester was a revolver, both rusted and covered with pine needles as though they had been cached for some time. Strapped about Roderick’s middle was a sturdy moneybelt. In his pockets were a South Pacific Railroad timetable, a piece of a candle, some small change and a pair of goggles.
But no gold. Keane’s shot had not only ended Roderick’s life but further investigation as well, for now no one alive knew the missing bullion’s location.
When the local mines petered out, Camp McKinney died, as had so many boom towns before it. For years it decayed in the wilderness until, in August 1931, a forest fire scythed across the area and it was totally destroyed. But the town site is easily found today.
During the 1950s, and more recently, mining companies searched most of the region’s abandoned mine shafts for overlooked ore, but discovered no trace of the Cariboo Mine’s stolen bullion. And, although it’s rumoured that a map exists showing the gold’s location, Matt Roderick’s secret apparently remains unsolved.
So what happened to the gold bars? Despite a posted reward of $5,000 for information leading to their return, the mystery remains unsolved. Roderick had to have had a strong reason to return to British Columbia where, he must have known, his disappearance immediately after the robbery would have aroused suspicion.
The Pinkerton detectives had determined that he and his wife were living “comfortably” if not lavishly in Seattle although it’s not stated how they thought he was getting by. It’s believed that he cashed in one of the bricks while biding his time to return for the others which he’d hidden somewhere near the robbery site.
Does the key to the mystery lie in the few articles found on his body? Was the moneybelt meant for the gold bars? They weighed 40 pounds.
In response to the proffered reward, Roderick’s widow, working, she said, from “plans” provided by her late husband, spent a week searching for the gold with the Cariboo Company’s cooperation but without success.
As it happened, she really didn’t need the stolen gold as she soon thereafter went to the Klondike and struck it rich. So she said. Or did she make up the story to camouflage her husband’s illegal legacy? Who knows?
There you have it. So far as is known, at least two of the stolen gold bars of Camp McKinney have never been recovered. And if they have been, do you really think the finders would report the fact?
Would you?