Jai Singh called out this acquiescence and then sailed in some more.
He struck swiftly to right and left, sending two more of the warriors to the earth. Then, satisfied that he had done something to uphold the dignity of his white companions and his own caste, he trotted back to see what the detective and Jefferson Arnold wanted.
He soon saw that the little party of invaders were able to take care of themselves.
Nick Carter’s rifle cracked twice, to check those of the enemy who were closing in. Jefferson Arnold and Patsy Garvan also blazed away, and with good effect, for they hit what they aimed at.
The men who had so suddenly come into view at the whistle of the now dead priest, fell back in the face of the determined attack of the strangers, and finished up by darting back to the cover from which they had first broken.
There must have been more than a hundred of them. All were big men, well armed. They were a foe not to be despised, even if the force against them had been as great as their own.
They were skillful hunters, too—masters of scouting and woodcraft. Had they not been, they never could have taken an ambush that would escape the keen vision of Nick Carter and Jai Singh, especially with Chick and Patsy also in the party.
“Hello! Look at the congressman over there on the jackass!” exclaimed Patsy Garvan. “Who turned him loose? Shall I plug him?”
“No, Patsy! Wait!” ordered Nick Carter. “I think he is going to talk to us.”
“All right. I won’t shoot,” answered Patsy, in a tone of disappointment. “But I could fetch him dead easy. He’d better not give you any back slack, or I’ll hand him a lead pill anyhow,” he added grumblingly. “I have no use for some of the people I meet in this country.”