e ice
with his face down and sheltered by his arms to escape suffocation.

"'Tis gettin' wonderful nasty," he said, "but I'll have plenty o'
grit, like Jamie says, and with the Lord's help I'll pull through."

Then he found himself repeating over and over again the prayer:

"Dear Lord, help me through! 'Tis to save a life, and the scout oath!
Dear Lord, help me through!"

The gale had now risen to such terrific proportions that often he was
compelled to crawl upon his hands and knees. With each momentary lull
he would rise and stagger forward. His legs worked at these times
without conscious effort. It was strange his legs should be like that.
They had never felt like that before.

And so, crawling, staggering upright, crawling again, and lying for
minutes at a time with his face in his arms that he might breathe when
he was well-nigh overwhelmed and suffocated, Andy kept on.

He could recall little of the last hours on the ice. It was a
confused sensation of rising and falling, staggering and crawling
until he collided with an obstruction, and recognizing it as the jetty
at the Post, his brain roused to a degree of consciousness, and his
heart leaped with joy.

With much fumbling he succeeded in donning his snow-shoes, which were
slung upon his back, for the twenty yards that lay between the ice and
the buildings was covered with deep drift. Once he stepped upon a dog
that lay huddled and sleeping under the drift. It sprang out with a
snarl and snapped at his legs. A hundred of the savage creatures were
lying about in the snow.

Day comes late in Labrador. It was still pitchy dark outside when
Andy, at eight o'clock in the morning, lurched into the kitchen at the
Post house, and fell sprawling upon the floor. He had been battling
the storm for ten hours.

David and Margaret, Eli and Mark and several others were there. Doctor
Joe was at breakfast in the Factor's quarters, and they called him.
Andy's face was covered with a mass of caked snow and ice. His nose
and cheeks and chin were white and badly frosted, and upon removing
his mittens and moccasins, his hands and feet were found to be in the
same condition.

Mr. MacCreary, the factor, placed a bed at Doctor Joe's disposal, and
when the frost had been removed and circulation had been restored,
Andy was tucked into warm blankets.

"That chap had grit," remarked Mr. MacCreary as he and Doctor Joe left
David and Margaret by the bedside and Andy asleep. "The