A year later when driving past his farm with Brother Holman, I saw a man out in the field and asked Brother Holman whether that was Brent Sonden. He said it was, and out of the car I got and ran over to him in the field saying, "Praise the Lord, Brent--did you follow the advice I gave you a year ago?" He answered, "Yes, and I have never had that feeling again since the Lord saved me." * * * * * At one time I went to Hereford, Minnesota to preach for Brother George Green while he went on a trip to Iowa. At the Sunday morning service I learned that Elder Larson had met with an automobile accident the night before, breaking his left arm in two places and had been taken to the hospital at Barrett. His father phoned me that he would call for me and take me with him to the hospital. On our arrival there, we found three doctors on the spot ready to amputate the arm--they were to take it off between the shoulder and the elbow. But I protested, saying, "That arm is not going to be amputated; those bones have to be set; for if you take the arm off you can never put it back again." But the doctors objected, "That is all we can do." I replied, "If Doctor Phelon of Paynesville had been at home I would have called for him to come and he would have fixed those bones in a jiffy." They replied, "We know him and he is no better than we are." They turned to the father and said, "Are you going to listen to us or to this old foggy preacher?" "Well," he answered, "The old minister knows something too." At this, two of the doctors picked up their instruments and left. The one remaining said to me, "What are you going to do?" I said, "I am going to Hereford to preach tonight, after which I'll come back and take the young man with me on the train to Minneapolis." "But," he said, "gangrene may set in." I told him that I would pray God Almighty to keep that away. Then he asked me whether I was going alone with the boy, and I told him I was. He said that I was a brave man, but I answered, "No, it is not that I am brave, but that young man would give anything to have his two arms." Then the doctor said, "How would it be if I were to go with you?" I told him that it would be fine. When we were on the train he asked me where I was going to take the young man when we got to Minneapolis. I told him I hadn't thought of that, but in a city of 500,000 people there must be a doctor capable of setting bones. If not, I said, "I'll do it myself." "All right," replied the doctor, "We'll take him to the Fairview Hospital; I know a doctor there who is good at setting bones. His name is Seversen." And this we decided to do.