e bravest seamen and the mightiest hunters have good
reason to fear.

On Easter Sunday morning at his St. Anthony home Dr. Grenfell was
walking back from the little church to his house after the morning
service, thinking of the sermon, and of his mother in England.

Suddenly a boy came running after him from the hospital near by.

"Oh, Doctor, Doctor!"

The Doctor turned in his deep, floundering steps to see who it was
that called him.

"Doctor," panted the small messenger, "I came to the hospital to fetch
ye. There's a man with dogs, from sixty mile away down to the south,
and he says they must have a doctor come to 'em, right off, or the
boy'll die."

The Doctor put his kind hand on the little fellow's shoulder. "Who is
it that is sick?"

"I dunno, Doctor, but he's wonderful sick. He'll die unless ye come."

The Doctor thought a moment--then he remembered. It was a young man on
whom he had operated two weeks before, for a bone disease that was
eating away his thigh.

Those who had tried to help him had closed up the wound--the worst
thing to do. The poison had collected, and probably the leg would have
to be taken off.

The Doctor knew that every minute counted. He went to his kennels in
the snow and picked out his sturdiest dog-team. They whined and pawed
and jumped up and down, eager to be chosen. The real "husky" hates to
loaf, except when he has come in from a long, hard run late at night
and has had his meal of fish. He wants to be at work all the time, and
when the sled is loaded the dogs must be tied up tight or they will
dart away at breakneck speed and perhaps upset everything. This sleigh
was heavy-laden with instruments, drugs and dressings. A second team
was to follow, with the messengers.

Dr. Grenfell loved, as with a personal affection, every one of the
five beasts that were taking him on this long haul to save a boy's
life.

First came "Brin," by common consent the surest leader anywhere on the
coast. The strongest dog of the team--big and affectionate and
playful--was "Doc." A black and white dog whose muscles were like
small wire ropes, was "Spy," and "Moody," now in his third year, was a
black-and-tan named for Dr. Grenfell's friend Will Moody, son of the
evangelist. "Moody" had the reputation of never looking behind him: he
was eager to go on to the bitter end.

The youngest dog of the team, named "Watch," had beautiful soft eyes,
a Gordon setter coat, and long legs capable of car