furs, presenting an almost impossible target for the
men inside the hut. A spokesman had come forward demanding the body of
Shanks, and was told to go to blazes. They now crept along the deep ravine
spread out over the snowy whiteness.

"I wish you'd kep' your courtin' till we got to 'Frisco," growled
Lonagon.

"I didn't even kiss the gal!" retorted Shanks. "I was jest telling
her----"

There was a report from outside, and a rifle-bullet whizzed within a few
inches of his head.

"Gee, they've got guns!" exclaimed Lonagon. "That's darn unfortunate!"

D'Arcy crept forward and, squinting through the small loop-hole, fired
twice. He gave a grunt of great satisfaction.

"That's one less."

A fusillade of shots came from the ravine. They ripped through the thick
logs and out the other side. D'Arcy drew in his breath with a hiss.

"They'll get us when the light goes," he said.

"Hell they will!"

"Looky here," said Shanks, "let's hike out and get at 'em. Can't shoot
through these little slits."

"They're about four to one--and there are at least six rifles there," said
D'Arcy.

Shanks sneered.

"They couldn't hit an iceberg."

"Reckon they could, with an arrow," growled Lonagon. "We'd be crazed to go
out there."

D'Arcy was for following Shanks' advice. They debated the point for a few
minutes and then decided to attempt an attack. But the decision was made
too late. There came a diabolical yell down the ravine. Shanks ran to a
loop-hole.

"Gosh!--they're coming--the whole lot of them!" he cried.

The three men ran to their posts and commenced firing at the leaping
figures of the Thlinklets. Three or four of them bit the snow, but the
remainder reached the hut. Shots came through and the sound of hatchets
sounded on the thick logs.

D'Arcy fired and a scream of anguish followed. Then he threw up his arms
and fell back with a groan, his rifle sticking in the slit through which
it had fired. Shanks ran to him, and saw a round hole through his coat,
near the heart, around which the blood was freezing as it issued. There
was obviously nothing to be done with D'Arcy. Shanks dragged the rifle
from the hole and reloaded it, cursing and swearing like a madman. Still
came the steady thud, thud of the hatchets, but they rang much more
hollow, and the two defenders expected to see part of the wall go down at
any moment. Suddenly the sound of hatchets ceased and some of the noise
subsided. Lonagon peeped through a