This did not look to be easy, yet Nick’s hand instinctively went toward his hip pocket.
“Stop! Hands up!”
The reiterated command fairly cut the air with its threatening intensity.
Grady’s hands were already reaching after clouds.
Nick Carter’s now followed suit, and went into the air.
In the voice, eyes, and attitude of the ruffian in the road, there was that which convinced Nick that disobedience and defiance would certainly invite a bullet.
He saw, moreover, that the aim of the scoundrel was true to the mark, and that the finger on the trigger of the weapon covering his own breast was already beginning to contract, during the moment that he showed signs of giving fight.
“If one of you move before I command it,” said the highwayman, “I will instantly open fire upon you. And I never miss my aim!”
The threat was as calmly made as if the speaker had merely inquired the time of day, yet the voice did not for a moment lose its terribly convincing ring.