But Jim stopped them.
"We're too few, as it is," he ordered. "Anton must take his chance. We've the girl here, the wounded, and the gold."
"He's my partner!" declared Clem, who knew the magic of the word on Jim.
"Me, too; I go!" declared Otto, in his most stubborn voice.
Jim hesitated. A partner's right was sacred.
"Go ahead, then," he said, "an' quick, afore the fog lifts. She's gettin' lighter, now!"
The odds were more even now. Between the barricade that the Siberians had thrown up hastily and the breastwork held by the miners, there was an open space, too wide for the throwing of the grenades. The six-shooters held it clear.
Again the Siberians rushed. Claim-jumpers they might be, but they were worthy fighters. They reached almost to the breastwork, and one man had his arm poised to throw a grenade within, when Jim leaped forward and brained him with the butt end of a pistol. For full ten minutes, it was a death-grapple, but the attackers were beaten back.
The case of the Americans was desperate. Ammunition was growing short.
Another such attack might finish them.