No other man had come into view since the fall of the one shot by Patsy. They had evidently feared a dangerous ambush.
Even if they were bandits, they had some respect for their lives.
“They are holding back,” observed Chick. “But there are more than three, aren’t there, chief?”
“Yes. Six more. But they went out an hour ago. I have been watching a chance to make a rush ever since. The moment seemed to come at last, and I made a bolt for it.”
“Bully!” broke out Patsy, in uncontrollable admiration.
“Did they shoot at you?” asked Chick.
“I didn’t give them a chance,” was Nick’s reply. “I knocked two of them down, with right and left-handers, and the third was stooping over the fire, with his back to me.”
“I’d have given a year’s pay to see it,” declared Patsy enthusiastically. “There’s the car!”
Indeed, the motor car was ready to start, under the sheltering rock. The ever-watchful Phillips stood at the side, with both doors open, ready to close them with a snap as soon as the three detectives were in their places.
Phillips never allowed himself to betray surprise. So he took the coming of Nick Carter quite as a matter of course, and never even raised his respectable, well-trained eyebrows as Nick jumped in and took the wheel.