The man at the brazier leaped to his feet in a flash, at the same time whipping out an immense two-edged knife of portentous length and sharpened to a needle point.
The fellow was big and powerful, although he had not seemed so when crouched over the fire. His hair was tinged with gray and his black eyes were sunk in their sockets. But he was full of furious energy.
With a roar of savage anger, he charged at Patsy Garvan.
But Patsy was too much on the alert to be there when his foe got to where he had been. The medicine man missed Patsy altogether. Then he found himself in the sinewy hands of Nick Carter.
The detective had seized him just below the elbows and was holding his hands to his sides. Chick raised his revolver, to knock him senseless if he should break loose from his captor.
“I have him safe,” cried Nick Carter. “Don’t hurt him. We want him alive.”
“You do, eh?” mumbled Patsy Garvan. “Well, I wouldn’t want him, alive or dead, either.”
CHAPTER IV.
AN ENEMY FOR A GUIDE.
Nick Carter had the witch doctor in such a firm grip that there was no danger of his getting away.