Coincident with calling each of his dogs by name Lucky Jim fired a shot. Then he sprang down to the beach, picked up a handful of gravel and threw it at the two men. Recognizing the familiar voice, the dogs first barked with delight. "Sick 'em," they also understood without a doubt, for they immediately sprang on Chenoa Pete and Mike Haggart, snarling, snapping and biting, husky fashion. [Illustration] The raft came alongside Lucky Jim, and just about ten feet away. He started down the beach in line with it. "Jump, you fools," he shouted, "or they'll eat you alive!" He fired another couple of shots. Out of the mélée on the raft sprang a figure in rags bawling blue murder. There was a splash. Lucky Jim had just paused long enough to note that it was Chenoa Pete that was struggling in the water, and bawling still. He was followed a moment later by Mike Haggart. Neither men had had a chance to seize a gun. The dogs had kept them too busy. Lucky Jim raced ahead a short distance then plunged into the water. The dogs welcomed him with yowls of joy as he climbed aboard the raft. His pokes of dust still lay in the bottom of his empty sled. "Fine," he said. He turned and looked back. Chenoa Pete was already ashore and Mike Haggart was climbing the bank. He waved his hand to them. "You're the poorest fish that ever came out of this river!" he called to them. * * * * * He docked at Totatla City an hour later. The _Dusty Diamond_ was at the wharf, bow downstream. Lucky Jim hitched the dogs to the sled and set out for Dad Manslow's cabin. The old man came to the door when he heard his voice. "Well, Dad, here I am!" cried Lucky Jim. "And, believe me, my usual well-known luck has been on the job every minute since I left you. On the square, Dad! I'm the luckiest guy----" Dad's grin, an ear-to-ear affair, cut him short. "You tell that dodgasted rubbish about your luck to the sit-downers and stove-huggers!" he exclaimed. "I know what prospectors' luck is. It's guts an' gumption! Did yuh have any trouble findin' the bar or anything?" Lucky Jim's whimsical smile faded. "Why, Dad, twice a couple o' tinhorns tried to put something over on me, but there wasn't enough gray matter mixed in with their stuff, which was pretty raw. It was easy money from Easy Money bar, Dad." He uncovered the five pokes of dust. "And there's the clean-up," he concluded. The Adam's apple on the old man's throat worked up and down, and his eyes blurred. "God bless yuh, Lucky Jim," he mumbled. Lucky Jim started to carry the gold inside. On a plate on the table were a few soda biscuits. He shoved one into his mouth, then went after another sack. Dad carried in the remainder while Lucky Jim stuffed himself with biscuits. The _Dusty Diamond_ let loose two blasts with her siren. "Is she going down today?" inquired Lucky Jim.