and
help with both hands right and left.

It was with heavy hearts a few days later that they said good-by and
started north for Labrador where there were people who needed them
even more than the burned-out folk of St. John's.

They ran across the Straits of Belle Isle, through which the River St.
Lawrence flows to the Atlantic, and the sun flashed on a hundred
icebergs at once, in a glorious procession.

The seabirds were fighting and crying over the fish.

The whales were leaping clean out of the sea, as if they were playing
a game and having lots of fun.

Grenfell laughed aloud as he watched them. "I say, boys," he said to
the sailors, "don't you wish you could jump out of the water like
that?"

"I wish we had all the oil there is in all them whales!" said Bill,
who had a very practical mind.

Into the very middle of the fishing-fleet they sailed.

Flags of welcome were run up to the mastheads of the schooners. There
were about 30,000 Newfoundlanders in the whole fleet, on more than 100
schooners--and Grenfell's boat was a little bit of a thing compared
with most of them.

But they all knew that the small boat had sailed clear across the sea
to help them, and they all wanted to show how glad and grateful they
were that a real doctor had come to their help.

Pretty soon the little boats coming from the schooners were flocking
round them like ants about a sugar-bowl.

One man came after all the rest had gone.

His boat was little better than a bunch of boards with a dab of tar
here and there.

For a long time the rower sat still, looking up at Dr. Grenfell, who
leaned over the rail gazing down at him.

By and by the fisherman broke the silence.

"Be you a real doctor, sir?"

"That's what I call myself," answered Grenfell.

"What's your name?"

"Grenfell."

"Well, Dr. Greenpeel, us hasn't got no money, but----"

He stopped.

"I don't care about the money," Grenfell answered. "What's the
trouble?"

"There's a man ashore wonderful sick, Doctor, if so be you'd come 'n'
see him."

"Sure I'll come!"

Dr. Grenfell was over the rail and in the fisherman's poor tub in a
jiffy.

He was taken to a mean sod hut.

The only furniture was a stove that looked like a big tin can burst
open.

The floor was of stones from the beach: the walls were mud. Six
children were sitting in a corner, about as dirty as the mud walls,
and just as quiet.

A woman in rags was giving spoonfuls of water to a ma