“Well, Thor, when you coming with us?”

“Any day now, Swan. Any day.”

Smiling, the eyes still glassily merry, “I never thought I’d live to die sitting in a chair by a window in an old pioneers’ home.”

It was a standing joke, a routine dialogue, Chris learned later.

“How would you like to die, Swan, if you had your choice? Eaten by a bear? Frozen on the trail? Starved in a cabin?”

“I’d like to be shot dead by a jealous husband.”

Ha-ha-ha! said Thor. And ha-ha-ha! said Swan.

But when they left, Chris said, “I don’t want to live to be old.”

“It’s not so bad,” Thor said. “I just ignore it.”

“But you’re not old!”

“I’m old, Chris, my dear child. And Czar is old and Bridie is old. You’re just used to us, that’s all. You’ve had to skip a young mother and a young father and sisters and brothers, so you don’t know the difference. That’s why I want you to be ready and prepared, perhaps a little ahead of time, so that when we’re not here you can make your way, alone.”

“That sounds scary.”

“No. Life isn’t scary. It’s the most exciting experience you’ll ever have. But it’s better if you’re prepared a little.”

Then he said a curious thing. “When I’m really old, Christine, and ill and useless, don’t let them put me there, will you? It’s a good place, but not for me.”

She was genuinely shocked. “You! Why, Grampa Thor! What a thing to say.”

“I haven’t much money, you know. None, really, except from week to week.”

“I’ll have money. I’ll work. And Grampa Czar has lots of money. He wouldn’t let you.”

“Just remember what I said, dear child.”

Ketchikan, Wrangell. Cordova. Valdez. Nome. Even little native Indian villages. Hoonah. Yakutat. Then the bustling city of Fairbanks, exactly mid-center, neon-spangled and thriving; The Golden Heart of Alaska, it called itself, wistfully, Baranofs civic rival it announced, proudly.

“There isn’t much time,” Thor said. “Next trip we’ll head north. That’s the real Alaska. Oogruk and Kotzebue and Point Barrow. There’s nothing like them in all of North America. But first I want you to see the fishing. Then you’ll understand why I’m fighting the Outside crowd. Overnight at the Suewok Cannery, and then out on the tender to the fishing grounds with me. How does that sound?”

Privately she thought it sounded dull. “Mm-hm. That’ll be fun.”

He glanced at her almost ruefully. “I want you to see it,” he said, again. And again, “There isn’t much time.”

“Grampa Thor, you sound as if you were running a race against something.”

“I am—in a way. In many ways, Christine. I want you to see it all.”

“Bridie says you and Grampa Czar are so mixed up you can’t tell which is me and which is Alaska. Bridie kills me.”

“My God!” he said, stunned. “Maybe she’s right.”

By now it had become almost routine. They were taking off for the Suewok Cannery and the salmon-fishing grounds. There at the airport was the usual twin-engine DC-3, somewhat shabby but still gallant, though vintage. There, too, was the plane stewardess, not at all shabby or vintage. Gerda Lindstrom, a Baranof girl they knew well.