Into the disordered ranks of the miners, the Siberians
charged with the bayonet.

Armed only with their rifles, which were useless at close range, and
with six-shooters, a weapon of but short usefulness, the Americans
fought a losing fight.

Yet they repulsed the first attack, but at a staggering loss. The
"Wizard," seriously but not fatally wounded, was carried behind the
breastwork, his last words before losing consciousness being an order
to cover the shelter with flat slabs of slate, before the Siberians
got near enough to throw their grenades into the little fortified
space.

Jim straightened up.

"Good-bye, little gal, if I don't see you again!" he called. "My place
is at the front, now!"

He assumed the lead.

A second attack, even more vicious than the first, followed. The
miners had reloaded. Most of them had two guns, hastily snatched from
dead or wounded comrades. But for the grenades, they could have more
than held their own. It was not to be. When the second rush subsided,
the Siberians held one end of the gravel pit. The farther end, where
were Jameine and the wounded men, held firm.

There came a lull, and, from where they lurked, the defenders saw
suddenly some flashes of light from around the wireless house.

"They're after Anton!" said Clem. "He's all alone, up there. We can't
leave the kid!"

"Right!" agreed a couple of the men. "Let's go!"

But Jim stopped them.

"We're too few, as it is," he ordered. "Anton must take his chance.
We've the girl here, the wounded, and the gold."

"He's my partner!" declared Clem, who knew the magic of the word on
Jim.

"Me, too; I go!" declared Otto, in his most stubborn voice.

Jim hesitated. A partner's right was sacred.

"Go ahead, then," he said, "an' quick, afore the fog lifts. She's
gettin' lighter, now!"

The odds were more even now. Between the barricade that the Siberians
had thrown up hastily and the breastwork held by the miners, there was
an open space, too wide for the throwing of the grenades. The
six-shooters held it clear.

Again the Siberians rushed. Claim-jumpers they might be, but they were
worthy fighters. They reached almost to the breastwork, and one man
had his arm poised to throw a grenade within, when Jim leaped forward
and brained him with the butt end of a pistol. For full ten minutes,
it was a death-grapple, but the attackers were beaten back.

The case of the Americans was desperate. Ammunition was growing short.