w for Taylor either to advance or
retreat, and the pan upon which he had taken refuge began a rapid
drift seaward. He had made a valiant effort, but the attempt had
failed.

Grenfell resumed firing his gun, still hoping that some one might hear
it and come to their rescue. Time passed and Taylor drifted abreast of
Grenfell and finally drifted past him. Then, in the far distance,
Grenfell glimpsed the flash of an oar. The flash was repeated with
rhythmic regularity. The outlines of a boat came into view. The men
shouted the good news to each other. Help was coming!

The signals had been heard, and in due time, and with much
thankfulness, Dr. Grenfell and William Taylor were safely in the boat
and on their way to St. Anthony.

Not long after his return to St. Anthony, the ice drifted eastward and
an open strip of sea appeared leading northward toward the Straits of
Belle Isle. The ice was now a full mile off shore, it was the
beginning of June, and Dr. Grenfell, expecting that at this late
season the Straits would be open for navigation, had the _Strathcona_
made ready for sea at once, and with high hopes, stowed the anchor and
steamed northward. It was his plan to have the vessel carry him
westward through the Straits and land him at some port on the west
coast of Newfoundland where he could take passage on the regular mail
boat, which he had been advised had begun its summer service. Thence
he could continue his trip to New York, where the important meeting
had been adjourned several times in expectation of his coming.

But again he was doomed to disappointment. The Straits were found to
be packed from shore to shore with heavy floe ice and clogged with
icebergs. Before the _Strathcona_ could make her escape she was
surrounded by ice and frozen tight and fast into the floe.

[Illustration: "THE HOSPITAL SHIP. STRATHCONA"]

Grenfell was determined to reach New York and attend that meeting. It
was supremely important that he do so. Now there was but one way to
reach the mail boat, and that was to walk. The distance to the nearest
port of call was ninety miles.

Making up a pack of food, cooking utensils, bedding and a suit of
clothes that would permit him to present a civilized and respectable
appearance when he reached New York, he made ready for the long
overland journey. Shouldering his big pack, he bade goodbye to Mrs.
Grenfell, who was with him on the _Strathcona_, and to the crew, and
set out over the ice p