Behind, where their feet had sped
the moment before, the ice broke up and turned turtle. Through this
opening the river rushed out upon them to their waists, burying the sled
and swinging the dogs off at right angles in a drowning tangle. But the
men stopped their flight to give the animals a fighting chance, and they
groped hurriedly in the cold confusion, slashing at the detaining traces
with their sheath-knives. Then they fought their way to the bank through
swirling water and grinding ice, where, foremost in leaping to the rescue
among the jarring fragments, was the Kid.
"Why, blime me, if it ain't Montana Kid!" exclaimed one of the men whom
the Kid was just placing upon his feet at the top of the bank. He wore
the scarlet tunic of the Mounted Police and jocularly raised his right
hand in salute.
"Got a warrant for you, Kid," he continued, drawing a bedraggled paper
from his breast pocket, "an' I 'ope as you'll come along peaceable."
Montana Kid looked at the chaotic river and shrugged his shoulders, and
the policeman, following his glance, smiled.
"Where are the dogs?" his companion asked.
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