“There are twenty against us,” observed Nick.
“At least that,” nodded Leslie Arnold. “There may be two or three over that number.”
“So that they have odds of at least two to one,” observed Chick. “Well, that isn’t bad. They haven’t any guns—have they?”
“They have their bows and arrows,” answered Leslie. “Their marksmanship is something that we cannot afford to despise, either. They have been shooting with bows and arrows for many centuries, and they get what they aim at.”
“Funny they never took to guns,” remarked Patsy. “They must know about them.”
“Of course they do,” returned Leslie. “But they despise them. At least, the fighting men do. I dare say there are people back in their cities—wise people, too—who would not know a gun if they saw one.”
While talking thus, they had been busy getting ready for the charge Nick Carter meant to make. He had seen that they did not mean to let Leslie Arnold go if they could help it, and that there would have to be a fight to keep him out of their hands.
“What are they so anxious to hold you for, Leslie?” asked his father.
“They know that you are a very rich man,” replied Leslie briefly.
“Well?”