way, and not such a load for the dogs. We have used
up considerable of our supplies, and we have that much less in weight.
But the gold will more than make up for it."

They were so excited over their good fortune that they scarcely thought
of eating, and they were startled when Johnson put his head in the
opening of the cave, and announced that dinner was ready.

"All right," answered Mr. Baxter. "We've found the gold, George."

"Has yo' really, Massa Baxter? Am it a million dollars?"

"Far from it, George."

The colored man seemed disappointed. Mr. Baxter did not think it wise to
tell him just how much it was, nor did he want him or the Indian to
catch sight of the yellow nuggets. They might not be able to stand the
sight of so much wealth. So the sacks were covered with some fur robes,
and, while Mr. Baxter remained on guard, Fred and Jerry went to eat.
Then they relieved Mr. Baxter, and, with ready rifles, waited until he
had finished his meal.

The short day was soon at an end, and Mr. Baxter, having sent the Indian
away from camp, to bring in a supply of firewood, began, with the aid of
the boys and Johnson, to pile the gold securely on the sleds.

"We'll start for the south in the morning," announced Mr. Baxter, "and
glad I am to be able to do it, too. This cold seems to get through to my
very bones."

As the last of the gold was being put on the sleds, Fred saw, peering
over the edge of an ice-covered rock, the face of an Alaskan Indian.

"Hello, Holfax!" he cried. "What are you coming that way for?"

But, to his surprise, the figure vanished, and, a moment later, Holfax
appeared, coming from a different direction.

"Why--why--that's funny," remarked Fred.

"What is?" asked Mr. Baxter.

"I thought I saw Holfax looking at me from up there, and here he comes
down there."

No sooner had he spoken than there was a cry from the guide. The eyes of
the four adventurers were drawn toward him, and, as they watched, they
saw another Indian rush at Holfax, take quick aim with a rifle, and
fire.

Holfax dropped the bundle of wood he was carrying, seized a long stick,
and ran at the other. The latter turned and fled, easily distancing
Holfax, who had no snowshoes, while his assailant had on a pair.

"Are you hurt?" asked Mr. Baxter anxiously, hurrying toward the guide,
who turned back as the other passed out of sight in a hollow.

"No hurt. Him bad shot. Him miss."

"Who was it? Why did he fire at you?