Jamie had pluck too, but pluck alone could not save his eyes.  The mist thickened more rapidly than Doctor Joe had expected it would, and there came a time when Jamie could scarcely see at all.  Then it was that Doctor Joe announced one day before the return of David and Andy from the trails, that the operation could be no longer delayed if Jamie’s eyesight was to be saved, and that to attempt to delay it until the ice cleared from the coast and the mail boat came to bear him away to New York would be fatal.

After making this announcement, Doctor Joe revealed the fact that he had once been a great eye surgeon.  With Thomas’s consent he offered to perform the operation on Jamie’s eyes.  Thomas had unbounded faith in his friend.  Doctor Joe operated and Jamie’s sight was saved.

In curing Jamie, Doctor Joe discovered that he himself was cured, and that he was again in possession of all his former skill.  It was quite natural, therefore, that he should wish to resume the practice of surgery.  He was an indifferent trapper, and the living that he made following the trails amounted to a bare existence.  He decided, therefore, that it was his duty to himself to return to the work for which, during long years of study, he had been trained.

Six weeks before Doctor Joe had sailed away on the mail boat from Fort Pelican, bound for New York, that far distant, mysterious, wonderful city of which he had told so many marvellous tales.  Thomas had grave doubts that they would ever see him again, though he had said that he would some day return to visit his friends at The Jug and to see his own little deserted cabin at Break Cove, where he had spent so many lonely but profitable years, for it was here that he had rebuilt his broken health.  He had good reason to love the place, and he was quite sure he had no better or truer friends in all the world than Thomas Angus and his family.

“Thomas,” said he at parting, “if I had the means to support myself I would stay here on The Labrador and be doctor to the people that need me, for there are folk enough that need a doctor’s help up and down the coast.  But I’m a poor man, and if I stopped here I’d have to make my living as a trapper, and you know how poor a trapper I’ve been all these years.  Back in New York I can do much good, and there I can live as I was reared to live.  But I’ll not forget you, Thomas, and some day I’ll come to see you.”

“I’m not doubtin’ ’tis best you go and the Lord’s will,” said Thomas.  “But we’ll be missin’ you sore, Doctor Joe.  I scarce knows how we’ll get on without you.  ’Twill seem strange—­almost like you were dead, I’m fearin’.”

“Thomas,” and Doctor Joe’s voice trembled with emotion, “there’s no one in the wide world nearer my affections than you and the boys and Margaret.  It hurts me to go, but it’s best I should.  I might scratch along here for a few years, but I was not born to the work and the time would come when I’d be a burden on some one, and it would make me unhappy.  I know that I’ll wish often enough to be back here with you at The Jug.”