"Aw, 'Wizard'!" exclaimed one of them reproachfully, "you ain't talkin' to tenderfeet!"
"If you were a tenderfoot I wouldn't have picked you for a man's job," the leader answered, knowing well the pride of the "sour-dough." "Out with you, now, and quietly!"
An hour passed, and then one of the scouts crawled back.
"They're comin', 'Wizard'!"
The other three scouts followed in short order. The Siberians were advancing in an extended line.
"To your places, men! Jim, you and the three I named will hold the breastwork. The girl's there!"
Jim looked longingly at the edge of the gravel pit, up which the men were creeping. He was torn between his desire to be in the forefront of the battle and his eagerness to be near enough to protect Jameine. But, like all men who have really known the life of the frontier, he obeyed a leader's orders unquestioningly.
A few minutes later, out from the half-gloom and the wet fog, an irregular line of fire ran, as a hundred or more rifles cracked simultaneously. The miners responded with a scattering fire.
The Siberians were on them!
The fog gave the attackers an advantage. The Americans had only the time to fire a second volley when the Siberians leaped over the edge of the gravel pit. A furious hand-to-hand conflict began, but the miners were terribly out-numbered.