He put his head a little away out from the rock. A dozen of the peculiarly fashioned arrows rattled around him.
“Poor marksmen, those people,” remarked the great detective, with a smile, as he drew back his head.
CHAPTER XI.
NICK’S MOST POWERFUL WEAPON.
“They were taking me up in the hills,” explained Leslie Arnold, in reply to a question from his father. “I broke away two days ago, and have been wandering about ever since.”
“Without food?”
“No. I managed to get enough of the cakes they use over there in Bolongu to keep me alive. I took them from my guards when they were sleeping. Only half of them were ever awake at one time. Generally they left five or six to guard me, while the others rested.”
“Must be a tired lot,” remarked Patsy, as he peeped a little way out from the rocks to see what the enemy was doing.
“Who took you up there, and how was it?” went on the elder Arnold. “Was Pike in it?”
Leslie Arnold clenched his teeth and drove one fist hard into the palm of his other hand.
“Yes. The scoundrel! He took the money from the business, and he is over there, in Bolongu.”