They had no chance, for the businesslike rifles and revolvers of a dozen men were pointed straight at them. The two Russians were unarmed, and consequently unable to do anything had they wished. Every man gave up except one.
That was the half-breed, LeBlanc. With a cry of rage he fired his rifle into the midst of the men, fortunately hitting no one, and then turning, ran fleet as a deer back across the border. One of the deputies raised his rifle to shoot, but was speedily checked by Fernald.
"Shoot above his head to try and stop him, but don't hit him. He's on the other side of the border now!"
Then ordering the men to extend their hands, the Customs agents soon had them securely handcuffed.
Just at that moment an appalling thought came to Garry.
"Oh, Mr. Fernald. Suppose LeBlanc had the jewels!"
Truly the thought was a chilling one, but Fernald, always a man of action, made no reply, but sprang to the side of one of the Russians and searched him hastily but carefully. His search revealed nothing. Then he turned to the second, and in a minute uttered a jubilant shout.
"This fellow has a chamois money belt on, and unless I'm greatly mistaken, that's where the jewels are."
Making the Russian strip off his shirt, he unhooked the money belt, and while Garry held his light, examined the pockets.
Each one was crowded with magnificent gems that flashed under the rays of the flashlamp!