"Well, well," said the Doctor. "We must fix him up." He didn't tell the woman that her husband had both consumption and pneumonia.
He left medicine and food and told the poor wife what to do. Then he had to go on to others who needed him.
It was two months before he could come back to this lonely spot—and then he found outside the hut a grave, covered with snow.
On that first voyage Dr. Grenfell had to see nine hundred people who needed his help!
One was an Eskimo, who had fired off a cannon to celebrate when the Moravian mission boat came in.
No wonder he felt like celebrating—for the boat only came once a year!
The gun blew up—and took off both of the poor fellow's arms.
He lay on his back for two weeks, the stumps covered with wet filthy rags. When Grenfell finally got there, it was too late to save him.
They do queer things on that coast when they have no doctor handy to tell them what to do.
For instance, a baby had pneumonia, and the mother dosed it with reindeer-moss and salt water, because that was all she had to give it!