They aroused Will and had him sit down on the bench.  He re-lighted his pipe but in a moment it fell from his teeth again.  He rolled over on the bench and was too soundly asleep to be interested in pipe or tea or anything to eat.

Daylight brought no abatement in the storm.  The ice was deep under a coating of slush, and quite impassable for dogs and men, and the sea was pounding and battering at the outer edge, as the roar of smashing ice testified, though quite shut out from view by driving snow.  There was nothing to do but follow the shore, a long way around, and off they started.

Here and there was an opportunity to cut across small coves and inlets where the ice was safe enough, and at two o’clock in the afternoon they reached Crow Island, a small island three-quarters of a mile from the mainland.

Under the shelter of scraggly fir trees on Crow Island an attempt was made to light a fire and boil the kettle for tea.  But there was no protection from the blizzard.  They failed to get the fire, and finally compelled by the elements to give it up they took a compass course for a small settlement on the mainland.  The instinct of the dogs led them straight, and when the men had almost despaired of locating the settlement they suddenly drew up before a snug cottage.

A cup of steaming tea, a bit to eat, and Grenfell and his men were off again.  Cape Norman was not far away, and that evening they reached the fisherman’s home.

The joy and thankfulness of the young fisherman was beyond bounds.  His wife was in agony and in a critical condition.  Doctor Grenfell relieved her pain at once, and by skillful treatment in due time restored her to health.  Had he hesitated to face the storm or had he been made of less heroic stuff and permitted himself to be driven back by the blizzard, she would have died.  Indeed there are few men on the coast that would have ventured out in that storm.  But he went and he saved the woman’s life, and today that young fisherman’s wife is as well and happy as ever she could be, and she and her husband will forever be grateful to Doctor Grenfell for his heroic struggle to reach them.

In a few days Doctor Grenfell was back again in St. Anthony, and then a telegram came calling him to a village to the south.  The weather was fair.  His own splendid team was at home, and he was going through a region where settlements were closer together than on the Cape Norman trail.

The first night was spent in his sleeping bag stretched on the floor of a small building kept open for the convenience of travelers with dog sledges.  The next night he was comfortably housed in a little cabin in the woods, also used for the convenience of travelers, and generally each night he was quite as well housed.

He was going now to see a lad of fifteen whose thigh had been broken while steering a komatik down a steep hill.  Dog driving, as we have seen, is frequently a dangerous occupation, and this young fellow had suffered.