“Well, I felt sure of that,” returned the priest. “So I have something else for you. Look!”
Nick Carter shuddered as he gazed at the gruesome object at which Calaman pointed.
Between two stakes driven into the ground was strung a long rope. In the middle of the rope was a cord hanging down a little way, and on the end of it was the shriveled head of a human being.
The head had been embalmed, dried, and treated in the secret way known to the people of this strange country, and was not bigger than a good-sized orange.
There it hung, swaying gently to and fro in the slight breeze, occasionally spinning around, as if it were inspecting everything in the square in its own mysterious, grim way.
“Can you hit that with your death stick?” asked the priest.
“Yes,” was Nick’s prompt reply.
“Even while it moves a little?”
“Yes.”
“Gee! I wouldn’t have said that,” grumbled Patsy, in a low tone. “You might as well have had it as easy as you could get it.”