Half the distance and a man behind a tree saw them, shouted, fired and ran toward the guerrillas.
Dick, knowing that concealment was no longer possible, cried to his men to rush forward at full speed.

A light, scattering fire met them.
Two or three were wounded but none fell, and the entire column swept on at as much speed as the deep snow would allow, sending in shot after shot from their own rifles at the guerrillas clustered along the crests and slopes.

The light was sufficient for them to take aim, and as they were sharpshooters the fire was accurate and deadly.
Their shout of victory rose and swelled, and the mountain gave it back in many echoes.

Dick, feeling his responsibility, managed to keep cool, but he continually shouted to his men to press on, knowing how full advantage should be taken of a surprise.

But they needed no urging.
Aflame with fire and zeal they charged upon the guerrillas, pulling the trigger as fast as they could slip in the cartridges, and Slade and Skelly, despite all their cunning and quickness, were unable to make a stand against them.
A great shout came up from the valley.