ried to
the brass rungs of the ladder and lowered.

"Easy! easy!" those who let him down were saying to each other. They
seemed to fear he would break if they dropped him.

By the light of a battered tin lamp Grenfell ran a needle into his
throat with the novocaine that would destroy the pain of the
operation.

Then he took his thin scissors a foot long and thrust them into the
abscess under the tonsils.

Five minutes later, Captain Cote had found the use of his tongue
again, and, waving both hands round his ears as he talked, he was
thanking God and Dr. Grenfell, and giving us the full history of the
dreadful months he spent before help came.

Next day we landed on his island--Greenley Island. From the small
wharf where women were cleaning fish there were two lines of planking
laid, on cinders, for perhaps a thousand feet through the long green
grass to the red brick lighthouse tower. On these wooden rails was the
chassis of a Ford car, and we rode in state. But you had to stick
closely to the track, or you came to grief on the rough, shelly soil
alongside.

"It's the first automobile ride I ever had in Labrador!" the Doctor
gleefully exclaimed.

In the lighthouse was a living-room with a talking-machine, a violin,
a typewriter and other things to add to the comfort of a home and make
a family happy.

The patient was brought into the room by his beaming wife and two of
his children.

"How are you this morning, Captain?" asked Grenfell.

"Feeling fine, Doctor."

"Did you sleep?"

"Slept like a baby. First time in three months."

"And can you eat?"

"I can eat rocks, Doctor."

Then the Captain brought out a pocketbook stuffed with greenbacks.
Twelve hundred dollars a year, with nothing to spend it for, since he
gets his living, seems a fortune to a man in that part of the world.

"How much do I owe you?" He pulled out three ten-dollar bills.

"One of those will do," said the Doctor, quietly.

It was right for him to take the money. Self-respect on Captain Cote's
part demanded that he should pay. Grenfell lets his patients pay in
wood or fish or whatever they have, a value merely nominal compared
with what they receive. But he wants them to feel--and they, too, wish
to feel--that they are not beggars, living on the dole of his charity.

"Now then, Doctor, how about the coal you burned getting here? How
much does that come to? The Canadian Government'll give it back to
you. We've got some down on