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Wallace, Dillon, 1863-1939

"The Story of Grenfell of the Labrador A Boy's Life of Wilfred T. Grenfell"

We couldn't get on at all, sir."
"Very well; at daylight."
Walter returned home and Doctor Grenfell to his room to make the most
of the two hours' rest.
It was scarce daylight and Walter had not yet appeared when another
telegram was clicked in over the wires:
"Come along soon. Wife worse."
The storm had increased in fury since Walter's early visit. It was now
blowing a living gale, and the snow was so thick one could scarce
breathe in it. The trail lay directly in the teeth of the storm. No
dogs on earth could face and stem it and certainly not the picked up,
or "scratch" team as Walter called it, for strange dogs never work
well together, and will never do their best by any means for a strange
driver, and Walter had never driven any of these except his own four.
With visions of the suffering woman whose life might depend upon his
presence, the Doctor chafed the forenoon through. Then at midday came
another telegram:
"Come immediately if you can. Wife still holding out."
He had but just read this telegram when, to his astonishment, two
snow-enveloped, bedraggled men limped up to the door.


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