ocked in the gale until the maids on the top
floor of the hospital said they were seasick. And when the storm was
over the snow was so deep that men with snowshoes walked from the
gigantic snow banks to some of the roofs which were on a level with
the drifts. Tunnels had to be cut through the snow to doors.

The storm delayed Ambrose and his friends, but after the weather
cleared their komatik appeared. The lad was put on the operating
table, the thigh re-broken and properly set by Doctor Grenfell, and
the leg brought down to its proper length. Presently the time came
when Grenfell was able to tell the father that, after all their fears,
Ambrose was not to be a cripple and that he would be as strong and
nimble as ever he was. This was actually the case. Doctor Grenfell is
a remarkably skillful surgeon and he had wrought a miracle. The
thankful and relieved father shed tears of joy.

"When I gets un," said he, his voice choked by emotion, "I'll send
five dollars for the hospital."

Five dollars, to Ambrose's father, was a lot of money.

Winter storms, as we have seen, never hold Doctor Grenfell back when
he is called to the sick and injured. Many times he has broken through
the sea ice, and many times he has narrowly escaped death. The story
of a few of these experiences would fill a volume of rattling fine
adventure. I am tempted to go on with them. One of these big
adventures at least we must not pass by. As we shall see in the next
chapter, it came dangerously near being his last one.

XX

LOST ON THE ICE FLOE

One day in April several years ago, Dr. Grenfell, who was at the time
at St. Anthony Hospital, received an urgent call to visit a sick man
two days' journey with dogs to the southward. The patient was
dangerously ill. No time was to be lost, for delay might cost the
man's life.

It is still winter in northern Newfoundland in April, though the days
are growing long and at midday the sun, climbing high now in the
heavens, sends forth a genial warmth that softens the snow. At this
season winds spring up suddenly and unexpectedly, and blow with
tremendous velocity. Sometimes the winds are accompanied by squalls of
rain or snow, with a sudden fall in temperature, and an off-shore wind
is quite certain to break up the ice that has covered the bays all
winter, and to send it abroad in pans upon the wide Atlantic, to melt
presently and disappear.

This breaking up of the ice sometimes comes so sudde