Grenfell—of course—is the pattern of all that the head of a family and the soul of a nation should be. The family life of the Grenfells and the perfect mutuality of thought and feeling between Dr. Grenfell and his wife stand out in clear-cut lines as an example to those who never have known the meaning of the complete community of ideals in the family life and in the relationship of wife and husband. It stands in rebuke to the sorrowful travesty the modern marriage so often exhibits. It shows how the strength of either partner in the marriage of true minds is multiplied tenfold and how the yoke is easy and the burden is light when love has entered in— “The love you long to give to one Made great enough to hold the world.” XI FOUR-FOOTED AIDES: DOGS AND REINDEER In few places are the dogs so numerous and so noisy as at Forteau, and Sister Bailey’s team held the primacy for speed and condition and obedience to command—yet she ruled them by moral suasion and not by kicks and curses. That does not mean they were dog angels. Every “husky” is in part a wolf, and the gentlest and most amiable that fawns upon you will in a twinkling go from the Dr. Jekyll to the Mr. Hyde in his make-up when the breaking-point is passed. The leaders of the pack were two monsters named Scotty and Carlo, and they were rivals to the end of the tether. Carlo was a sentimentalist of a hue between fawn and grey: his greatest pleasaunce was to put his forepaws on your shoulders and lick your nose ere you could stave him off. Scotty’s nose—he was black and white—was embossed with the marks of many bitter duels. Probably the other dogs could read those marks, as a Bret Harte cowboy could read the notches on a gun, and he won respect commensurate with the length and breadth of the scratches. Scotty came with us on the _Strathcona_, as his mistress was leaving for a rest in England shortly. It was a job to persuade him aboard the boat, but once there he entered into a tacit agreement, as between gentlemen, that he should have the after deck while Fritz, our official dog, monopolized the prow. Scotty had the better of the bargain, for his bailiwick included the cook’s galley. But Fritz could sleep on the floor of my cabin, though whenever I looked for him on the floor he was snugly ensconced in a forbidden lower bunk, curled up like a jelly roll. He learned to vacate without even a word when I gazed at him reproachfully.