Having nothing else to do, Johnny had followed a narrow track up the river.  The track had come to an end at the entrance to the mine.  Thinking it merely a sort of crude cold storage plant for keeping meat fresh, he had let himself down to explore it.  Increasing curiosity had led him on until he had discovered the gold.  Now he had quite forgotten the person whose tracks led him to the spot.

He was shocked into instant and vivid realization of peril by a cold pressure on his temple and a voice which said in the preciseness of a foreigner: 

“Now I have you, sir.  Now I shall kill you, sir.”

In that instant Johnny prepared himself for his final earthly sensation.  He had recognized the voice of the Russian.

There came a click, then a snap.  The next instant the revolver which had rested against his forehead struck the frozen roof of the mine.  The weapon had missed fire and, between turns of the cylinder, Johnny’s good right hand had struck out and up.

The light snapped out, and in the midnight darkness of that icy cavern the two grappled and fell.

Had Johnny been in possession of the full power of his left arm, the battle would have been over soon.  As it was they rolled over and over, their bodies crushing frozen bits of pay-dirt, like twin rollers.  They struggled for mastery.  Each man realized that, unless some unforeseen power intervened, defeat meant death.  The Russian fought with the stubbornness of his race; fought unfairly too, biting and kicking when opportunity permitted.  Three times Johnny barely missed a blow on the head which meant unconsciousness, then death.

At last, panting, perspiring, bleeding and bruised, Johnny clamped his right arm about his antagonist’s neck and, flopping his body across his chest, lay there until the Russian’s muscles relaxed.

Sliding to a sitting position, the American began feeling about in the dark.  At last, gripping a flashlight, he snapped it on.  The face of the Russian revealed the fact that he was not unconscious.  Johnny slid to a position which brought each knee down upon one of the Russian’s arms.  He would take no chances with that man.

Slowly Johnny flashed the light about, then, with a little exclamation, he reached out and gripped the handle of the Russian’s revolver.

“Now,” he mocked, “now I have you, sir.  Now I shall kill you, sir.”

He had hardly spoken the words when a body hurled itself upon him, knocking the revolver from his hand and extinguishing the light.

“So.  There are others!  Let them come,” roared Johnny, striking out with his right in the dark.

“Azeezruk nucky.”  To his astonishment he recognized the voice of Iyok-ok.  What he had said, in Eskimo, was, “It would be a bad thing to kill him,” meaning doubtless the Russian.

“Azeezruk adocema” (he is a bad one), replied Johnny, throwing the light on the sullen face of the Eskimo.