ure of their
plans. If he could escape this one time, he would be on his guard; he
would protect himself and his men.

"C'mon," Pant cried. "Three shots; then for it."

Three times the automatic shook the walls of the cavern. Then they were
away, out in the open breaking for cover among the boulders that lined the
cliff.

Now they were dodging from rock to rock; now, for a second, Johnny saw the
natives swarming from the cave like bees; now, they were hidden from
sight; and now, he paused for an instant to send a bullet over the head of
a runner who ran too well.

Soon they had lost themselves among the hills. Only once, in the five-mile
run home, did a native appear on a hilltop. He beckoned, then
disappeared.

After a time, when near camp, they slowed down to a walk.

"Pretty close," smiled Johnny, slipping his gun into his pocket.

"I say," murmured Pant, "do you think they were the same ones that
attacked you back here on the hill a few nights ago?"

"No. Their work's too crude. These others were real chaps."

That night, after darkness had fallen over the hills, Johnny went into
Mine No. 1 with a flashlight alone. Having reached a point where Langlois
had been found dead, he sat down on a frozen ledge and stared at the
rust-reddened pick-handle, which seemed to point an accusing finger at him
for bringing that fine fellow here to meet his death. What had killed him?
This was as much a mystery as ever.

There were many mysteries about this place; there was that earth-tremble
that, to-night, was more noticeable than ever; there were those strange
brown people who had attacked him on this very hill; there was the tiger
slain that very day and skinned by Dave and Jarvis; there was the oriental
chain and tag about the beast's neck. Johnny seemed surrounded by many
mysteries and great dangers. Was it his duty to call the deal off and
desert the mines? Sometimes he thought it was. Ice conditions were such
that it might yet be possible to get their gasoline schooner into open
water and go pop-popping south to Vladivostok. But there would be those
there who waited and hoped for gold to aid them in the battle against
hunger, disease and death. Could they go empty-handed?

Rumors of a new peril had drifted in that day. A Reindeer Chukche, coming
from a five days' journey into the interior, had told of great numbers of
Russians pushing toward the coast. These could be none other than
Bolsheviki who hoped to gather