Philip kicked off his snow shoes and knocked at the door.

In a moment Pierrot opened it, stepped back, and stared at the white figure that came in out of the storm.
"Mon Dieu--it ees you--Mee-sair Philip!" Philip held out his hand to Jacques, and shot a quick glance about him.
There had been a change in the cabin since he had visited it last.

One of Pierrot's hands was done up in a sling, his face was thin and pale, and his dark eyes were sunken and lusterless.

In the little wilderness home there was an air of desertion and neglect, and Philip wondered where Pierrot's rosy-cheeked, black-haired wife and his half dozen children had gone.
"Mon Dieu--it ees you, Mee-sair Philip," cried Pierrot again, his face lighting up with pleasure.

"You come late.