“Hold on!” roared Jefferson Arnold. “Don’t shoot! You might hit my son!”
“Your son?” cried Patsy.
“Yes,” replied Jefferson. Then darting forward until he was close to the young fellow who had come tearing down the rocks, he held out both hands, as, in sob-choked tones, he cried:
“My boy!”
It was Nick Carter who saved Jefferson Arnold from pitching over the precipice, by throwing both his arms around the millionaire as he leaped forward to grasp the hands of his son.
“What? Is this Leslie Arnold?” shouted Chick, bewildered.
It was not necessary to repeat this question, for the two Arnolds, father and son, had dropped each other’s hands, and Leslie now had his arms around his father’s shoulders.
“Look out!” roared Patsy. “Here they come, twenty of them!”
He pointed up the way the scoundrels had followed Leslie Arnold, and by which they had suddenly retreated.
It was apparent why the two men had gone back, although Nick Carter was the first to see it.