A cataract began to form on Uncle Willie’s eyes, and every day he could see just a little less plainly than the day before.  The prospects were that he would soon be blind, and without his eyesight he could neither hunt nor fish.

But with his growing age and misfortune Uncle Willie was never a whit less cheerful.  He had to earn his living and he kept at his work.

“’Tis the way of the Lard,” said he.  “He’s blessed me with fine health all my life, and kept the house warm, and we’ve always had a bit to eat, whatever.  The Lard has been wonderful good to us, and I’ll never be complainin’.”

It was never Uncle Willie’s way to complain about hard luck.  He always did his best, and somehow, no matter how hard a pinch in which he found himself, it always came out right in the end.

Finally Uncle Willie’s eyesight became so poor that it was difficult for him to see sufficiently to get around, and one day last summer (1921) he stepped off his fish stage where he was at work, and the fall broke his thigh.  This happened at the very beginning of the fishing season, and put an end to the summer’s fishing for Uncle Willie, and, of course, to all hope of hunting and trapping during last winter.

Then Doctor Grenfell happened along with his brave old hospital ship Strathcona.  Dr. Grenfell has a way of happening along just when people are desperately in need of him.  With Dr. Grenfell was Dr. Morlan, a skillful and well-known eye and throat specialist from Chicago.  Dr. Morlan was spending his holiday with Dr. Grenfell, helping heal the sick down on The Labrador, giving free his services and his great skill.

Dr. Grenfell set and dressed Uncle Willie Wolfrey’s broken thigh.  Dr. Morlan was to remain but a few days.  If he were to help Uncle Willie’s eyes there could be no time given for a recovery from the operation on the thigh.  Uncle Willie was game for it.

They had settled Uncle Willie comfortably at Indian Harbor Hospital, and immediately the thigh was set Dr. Morlan operated upon one of the eyes.  The operation was successful, and when the freeze-up came with the beginning of winter, Uncle Willie, hobbling about on crutches and with one good eye was home again in his cabin.

Uncle Willie lives in a lonely place, and for many miles north and south he has but one neighbor.  The outlook for the winter was dismal indeed.  His flour barrel was empty.  He had no money.

But that stout old heart could not be discouraged or subdued.  Uncle Willie was as full of grit as ever he was in his life.  He was still a fountain of cheery optimism and hope.  He could see with one eye now, and out of that eye the world looked like a pretty good place in which to live, and he was decided to make the best of it.

Dr. Grenfell, passing down the coast, called in to see the crippled old fisherman and hunter, and in commenting on that visit he said: