Even then the fugitives might have escaped had it not been for their own dogs. A series of loud howls came from the beasts of the Indians. This was too much for the others. With wild yelps, utterly disregarding the voices and whips of Mr. Baxter, the boys and Johnson, who tried to urge them on, the brutes turned and made straight back for the camp of the Alaskans, probably intent on fighting with those who had challenged them.
"They're taking us right into the midst of the enemy!" cried Fred. "Let's jump off and run!"
He tried to do so, but he was so encumbered with robes and fur coats that he could not.
Mr. Baxter was trying his best to guide the leading team to one side, but it was useless. Lash them as he did the dogs kept on, straight for the Indian camp, beyond which they had almost passed.
"We've got 'em!" yelled Callack. Then he cried some commands in the Alaskan tongue.
"Shall we fire?" cried Fred.
"No, don't!" replied Mr. Baxter. "You can't tell where you are aiming. You might kill one of us. I guess it's all up. But I'm glad I buried the gold," he added to himself.
A moment later the adventurers were fairly in the hostile camp, and Jacob Callack and his men had surrounded them.
"Surrender! We've got you!" yelled the rascally white man.
"Yes, you've got us," admitted Mr. Baxter coolly, "but you wouldn't have if our dogs hadn't turned back."