Nick had refused to kill the three malefactors. But he had induced Calaman to have a slab of stone set up at two hundred yards’ distance for a target. In the center of the stone had been placed a splash of mud for a bull’s-eye.
Just as William Pike was allowed to look from his window, Nick Carter sent three bullets, quickly, one after the other, in the very center of the mud splash on the white stone.
Calaman descended from his mule and made a ceremonious salaam to the detective.
“Are you satisfied, Pike?” asked Jefferson Arnold, as he pulled the prisoner away from the window.
“What do you want me to do?” was William Pike’s surly response.
“To see us safely outside the walls of the city. We shall take the money with us that belongs to us, of course. When we are outside, you will escort us to the pass on the other side of the valley. Once we are among the rocks, we can take care of ourselves. Then you can come back to Shangore and continue to bluff the people here as much as you like. In consideration of your taking us out, I shall not prosecute you.”
“And if I refuse?” asked Pike.
Jefferson Arnold whipped a revolver from his pocket and placed the cold metal ring of the muzzle against Pike’s forehead.
“That’s answer enough,” cried Pike, with a sickly smile. “I agree.”