Steel chuckled, and in another moment, at a word from the man behind the sleigh, they started forward. The sun, which had put in a brief half-hour’s appearance, had now gone down amid a bank of purple mist, and the world which a while ago had sparkled like a carpet of diamonds was now a dull, cheerless gray. The long Arctic night was closing in. Too, it was growing steadily colder. After perhaps half a mile had been covered, Steel observed, “Hello! There’s a cabin up there on the left.” He pointed a mittened hand. “Could just as well have stopped there for dinner, if we’d known.” “Wasn’t there six years ago,” Miller replied. “That was the last time I mushed this trail.” Steel, who had been studying the small cabin that stood on the wind swept crest of a hardwood knoll, now remarked, “There’s no smoke coming from the chimney. Must be deserted--hello!” he interrupted himself, “what’s that?” “What’s what?” “That on the door. Looks like something white’s been nailed there. Perhaps we’d better take a look. Wait, I’ll run up.” But Miller, from behind, said disapprovingly, “We ain’t got time to waste foolin’ around. Keep goin’.” “But something might be wrong,” Steel reasoned. “I think we ought to take a look.” Miller emitted a snort. “Well, if you’re set on it, go on. But make it fast. I didn’t agree to take you on a sight-seein’ trip.” “It won’t take a minute,” Steel assured him, and he swung up the slope on his snowshoes. A moment later he called down to the waiting man, “Say, come up here!” “What for?” “Read this!” Miller joined him presently and Steel pointed to the piece of birchbark that was nailed to the door. The writing on it made any words on the younger man’s part unnecessary. It read: I will be dead when you find this. My name doesn’t matter. I leave nothing of value and I have no living relatives and no particular friends who interest me, or who would be interested in my death. But I have a simple request to make. The past five years have been the happiest in my life. And the happiest hours in those years were spent right in front of my door, where I could look out over the woods at sunset. It is my wish that I lie there. It was signed merely, “Stranger.” Miller gave his characteristic snort and tried the door. But the melting snows of early fall had frozen about the sill and the door wouldn’t move. He thrust his great shoulders against the thick panels, but still the door held fast. And he said, “No use. Can’t budge her. I’ll go down and fetch the ax.” There was in his voice a somewhat eager note. Steel understood why, and he disliked the man for it. Presently the other was back with the implement and after hacking the ice away around the bottom, finally got the door loose. With a shove of his shoulders it flew open. He went in. Steel entered behind him.