“Nick Carter!” cried the amazed Westerner.
“The same.”
“Curse you!”
He sprang at Nick furiously.
Nick grabbed him by the collar, but he wrenched away, fighting like a demon with his manacled hands.
“Here, none o’ that!”
It was the officer.
He had dismounted to read the riot act to the driver of the carriage, the latter having jumped from the box to fix one of the harness tugs.
Seeing that a row, as he supposed, had started up the incline, toward the monument, he ran in that direction.
“Stop!” shouted Nick to Ramsay, who was a yard or more away. “Stop or I’ll shoot you.”