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

Travellers. Rivers and Mountains 177"Humph!" said Gwen when he told us this, "only themselves to blame if we arelike bears with sore heads, they make too much noise.""I suppose," I said reluctantly, "we must try to be more genial."But when we did try we learned that geniality is nature's own gift and is not tobe acquired by art or effort.Mter a while we invented several techniques for dealing with their questionsand their staring curiosity. We would stare back at them, or assume an air ofdumb stupidity as if we really had lost the use of our language, or question themabout themselves, both speaking at once in order to confuse them. When thesetactics failed I would produce Gwen's sketches which they would admireimmensely, until they understood that they were for sale. I nearly effected goodsales to a rich] ew, but he decided in the end that picture postcards would be justas good for souvenirs, and would be far cheaper. However, a few sketches werebought by the more discerning passengers.Among the strangely mixed crowd on board we made several friends. The boywith the injured leg could not move about so we used to settle down beside him tohave nostalgic talks about the Porcupine River. Then there was an interesting,much-travelled nurse who had been in Labrador with the Grenfell mission, anda delightful self-made couple from Seattle, reputed to be extremely rich butquite unspoilt by riches and endowed with simple tastes and manners; there weretwo attractive and breezy American girls; an old-timer from Fiume who came in40 years ago and had never been out since and was now keeping a general store;and another old-timer, with a Swedish wife, returning to his mink farm nearAnchorage.There was also one lasting friendship we formed on that journey. Soon aftercoming on board we noticed two men whose clothes were almost as shabby as ourown. In fact, what caught our eye first were the boots of the very tall one, for bothhis soles were nearly detached from the uppers and were flapping as he walkedabout the deck. He was Professor Harold Innis of Toronto University, and hiscompanion was an undergraduate named Gibbs. They had been exploring theborder country between Canada and Alaska, and had crossed the Divide at apoint considerably south of the Rat River. We soon made a habit of going ashorewith these two and a very happy quartet we were, enjoying freedom from thetourist world in which we found ourselves so ill-at-ease. We always kept up withHarold Innis and some years later when he came over to England for a Royal