C Ihe Ladies c cu. V'VVAN - History and Classics, Department of

20 THE LADIES, THE GWICH'IN, AND THE RATments and the expenses of the guides would be heavy, we each took with us ovel£100 in notes, slung round our necks in bags.That afternoon Mr Warner came to tea again, bringing photographs anddocuments with information about the North.In general conversation people spoke of "The North" without adding the word"country," merging the high latitudes of Alaska and Canada. We began to feelthat this "North" was not a territory but a personality at once alluring,compelling and sometimes cruel. Mr Warner was under its spell, we could sensethat as he sat in the hotel lounge telling us some of his own story and giving ushints about our journey. He was obviously not a hard-bitten pioneer nor a goldseekerbut an idealist with a passionate love for lonely places, still seeking forsomething that he had never found.He had gone north as a teacher and had failed. Nevertheless he had built hisown house and a boat and was full of ideas and schemes, some of which he hadput forward in a memorandum written for the government, dealing with the furtrade, police, missions and Eskimos. He was eloquent about missions andmissionaries."Mter 1900 years," he said, "the Church remains the most unpractical of allour institutions. If a missionary is a zealot he is 'short on practicality' and if heisn't a zealot he generally fails as a missionary."He turned to the subject of Indians, their greed and fawning ways and theinfluence of the white man that had destroyed their ancient dignity. Then,reverting to personal matters, he told us about several of his own experiences.One in particular I remember. He was camping with some Indians when a grizzlybear, smelling fried bacon, came into the camp. There was the bear, quite closeto them, with a red mouth in a large head and a shambling powerful body. AnIndian was leaning against a tree, when he saw the bear he tried to shoot but therewas no shell in his weapon. The Indian ran towards a stream and Warnerfollowed, feeling the bear's hot breath behind him. The animal blundered intothe fire, burnt his feet in hot cinders and retired. "Grizzlies will never attack,"our friend assured us.During the next few weeks we were to hear many such stories. Sometimes wefelt it was a case of the old-timer drawing the long bow in order to astonish thenewcomers. Yet even if we discounted some of the sensational details of thesestories, their background was always so full of local colour that we could onlylisten with enjoyment. It was not for us to try and separate the true from the false.