“Amen!” was Patsy Garvan’s fervent indorsement of this sentiment.
But Nick Carter shook his head decidedly.
“It wouldn’t do, Mr. Arnold,” he replied. “If we refuse this challenge, our last hope is gone. I don’t trust him any more than you do. But I’m going to get that fellow Pike, no matter how hard it may be. I can nail that animal at two hundred yards if there is no accident.”
“There won’t be any accident,” put in Chick. “Your hand is steady, and I never knew you to miss a shot like that in your life.”
Nick Carter put a friendly hand on his assistant’s shoulder.
“Of course you believe in me, Chick,” he smiled. “And I believe in myself. Still, shooting is not an exact science, after all. But I’ll do the best I can, and I hope I shall make a good, clean shot.”
“If you should miss, I’ll plug that priest before he can say ‘Git up!’ to his mule,” announced Patsy Garvan. “I half wish you would, so that I could have an excuse to shoot. But I know you won’t.”
“I don’t think I will,” admitted Nick. “Keep that priest covered, both of you. I don’t tell you to shoot him, mind. But make him understand that you have the drop on him.”
The detective walked toward Calaman and looked him steadily in his dark, deep-sunken eyes.
“Well?” asked the priest, in a tone that he could not help being slightly sneering.