Malemute Slade led the way up a long ravine where they left the dog team in charge of Toma and went on under cover of whatever they found.
“Follow me, lads, an’ don’t fire till I give the word,” Malemute Slade ordered.
“Look! There they are!” whispered Dick a moment later as they reached the top of the ravine.
On a rocky knoll, overlooking Gray Goose Lake, they could see the occasional puff of two rifles. All around the bottom of the little hill were hidden Govereau’s men, flanked by a deep gorge on their left.
“Now, lads, we’ll take ’em on the run. Shoot an’ holler all you can,” Malemute Slade’s drawling voice calmed them.
Dick and Sandy tensed for the coming skirmish, tightening their grips of their rifles.
“Ready,” called Malemute Slade. “Here we go.”
They broke from cover and ran yelling like an army across the space that separated them from Govereau’s party. The Indians turned and shouted, seeming paralyzed with surprise. The besieged policemen, on the hill, seeing reinforcements, also charged, leaping from their hiding place and firing as they came.
Attacked from two sides, Govereau’s band broke and fled.
“There’s Govereau!” cried Dick.