“No, but, Chick!” persisted Patsy. “I could raise my gun without being noticed, and I could land a cartridge in his shoulder or somewhere and knock him out, without killing him. Then we could——”
“Patsy!” thundered Nick Carter, who had overheard the last part of his assistant’s proposition. “Let me manage this matter.”
“Oh, all right! You’re the boss!” grumbled Patsy. “All the same——”
“Shut up!” whispered Chick.
“Now, Calaman, what is your final answer?” demanded Nick Carter, stepping forward a little from his companions and looking straight into the eyes of the priest. “I have told you that I must take that white man back with me. It is only a question of how it is to be done.”
The priest smiled cynically.
“As you say, it is a question of how it is to be done,” he purred, in his softest tones. “While I do not say that I will yield him to you, if you will come with me to the city, you shall see him. It may be that I shall be willing to exchange him for some of those death sticks you have. I do not say it will be so—only that it may be.”
“We will go with you,” answered Nick Carter.
“Very well. But, first, I would have a test.”
“A test?” repeated Nick. “What sort of test?”