“Keep it out of sight,” growled Jefferson Arnold. “If you bring it out, I swear I’ll hurl it at that old priest’s head. Then the fat will be in the fire.”
“All right!” laughed Nick. “I won’t show it. But I saw in Calaman’s eyes that he was after our guns and cartridges. He’ll learn to use them if ever he gets them. Don’t make any mistake about that. Our plan is to keep quiet for the present. Pretend that we don’t suspect anything.”
“I hate to do that,” put in Chick, who had overheard. “Why not make a rush? We could capture all this gang, because we would have them terrorized by what they call our death sticks. Then we should be in a position to dictate to the others in the city, and get hold of Pike without trouble.”
The boldness of the proposition made Nick Carter shake his head with a smile.
“It wouldn’t do, Chick,” he returned. “I don’t believe they’d think about our guns if that priest gave orders to them. They are blindly obedient to them, as anybody can see. No, my boy! They’d be all over us before we could strike an effective blow.”
“But——” began Patsy, who had forced himself into the whispered conference.
“That will do, Patsy,” interrupted Nick. “Don’t talk. They’re suspicious of us already. This whispering won’t do. See how they’re hedging us in on every side. That priest knows his business. He has had his men get control of every cartridge we have except the few we carry on us. What could we do without ammunition?”
Though Calaman certainly was suspicious, he did not permit it to show in his manner. Bringing his mule closer, he smiled and talked pleasantly as they moved along.
He paid particular attention to Nick Carter.