Lights were burning in the cabins and in the Hudson Bay Post's store when the car was brought to a halt half a hundred paces from a squat, log-built structure, which was more brilliantly illuminated than any of the others.
"That's the hotel," said one of the men.

"Gregson's there." A tall, fur-clad figure hurried forth to meet Howland as he walked briskly across the open.

It was Gregson.

As the two men gripped hands the young engineer stared at the other in astonishment.

This was not the Gregson he had known in the Chicago office, round-faced, full of life, as active as a cricket.
"Never so glad to see any one in my life, Howland!" he cried, shaking the other's hand again and again.