He heard the snowshoes lifted across the threshold and rose to greet
the stranger who, so soon as he had entered, made fast the door and
confronted him without a word, still hiding his face from sight. He
was a tall man, well over six feet and proportionately broad of chest;
he had to stoop his head as he stood in the store, since the roof was
none too high.

After some seconds spent in silent gazing, "Well, and what d'you
want?" asked the trader. The man made no reply, but tossed him a screw
of paper which, when he had unfolded it and smoothed it out, read,
_"Do all that is in your power to help the bearer. I am responsible.
Destroy this so soon as it is read."_ The note was unsigned, but it
was in the handwriting of Wrath. Granger slid back the door of the
grate and watched the scrap of paper vanish in a little spurt of
flame. Then he looked up, and seeing that the man still stood
regarding him and had removed none of his garments, not even his
snowshoes from which the crusted ice was already melting, "All right,"
he said; "I'll do my best. You must be tired, and have come a long
journey."

"I have," said the stranger, throwing back his hood, and for the first
time displaying his face.

Granger sprang forward with a startled cry, and seized the newcomer by
his mittened hand. "By God, it's Spurling!"

In a flash all the winter had thawed out of his nature and the spring,
which he had despaired of, had returned. Once more he was an emotional
living creature, with a throbbing heart and brain, instead of a
carcass which walked, and was erect, and muttered occasional words
with its mouth as if it were alive, and was in reality a dead thing to
which burial had been denied.

"Yes, it's Spurling," replied the traveller in a hoarse, uneager
voice; then, "Has anyone been here before me?"

Granger shook his head, and instinctively stood back a pace from this
leaden-eyed, unresponsive stranger, who had been his friend.

Spurling was quick to notice the revulsion. "And are you going to
desert me and turn me out?"

"Desert you! If you knew how lonely I have been you wouldn't ask that
question."

"I ought to know," he answered, and going over to the window looked
out, turning his head from side to side in that furtive manner which
Granger had noted in him when he had first seen him advancing across
the ice.

Facing about suddenly, he asked, "Is there any way out of here, except
down there?" pointing to the river frozen