“That’s what they did at last,” answered Adil. “But for a while there was a fight which was good. I stood by the side of Sahib Leslie, and we shot four--five--many men. They had spears like that.” He pointed to the lance that had wounded the oarsman in the arm, and which lay in the bottom of the boat. Nick Carter had taken the implement in his hand, and was looking it over thoughtfully. He had seen at a glance that it was different from any of the weapons used by the Sepoys or other men in the lower part of Hindustan. Still, it was well made, and there were strange figures burned into the iron head with some strong acid. “The party must have divided, Adil,” he suggested. “You were brought down here a prisoner. But Mr. Leslie went somewhere else.” “Yes. Those who brought me wanted much money before they went back to their own country. They said they would make me get it for them.” “I see. You were to be a decoy?” Adil evidently did not exactly understand this word “decoy,” but he knew, in a general way, what it meant, and he nodded. “What did you tell them?” “I would not speak,” replied Adil. “That is why they told the medicine man to make me see clearly what must be done.” “The blackguards!” ejaculated the millionaire. “They were trying to torture him into obeying them.” “Say, chief!” interrupted Patsy. “Let’s pull out of this. We ought to get after the gang that have Mr. Arnold’s son without wasting any more time. Adil can take us to the place, can’t he?” “If he can’t, I can,” boomed the deep tones of Jai Singh. “These men are of the low caste who are servants of the men of the Golden Scarab.” “What’s a scarab?” asked Patsy. He always liked to get to the bottom of things without loss of time. “It is a beetle, Patsy,” replied Nick Carter. “Go on, Jai Singh. What do you know about it?” “I know there is a country far up above the hills where the snows are, and that the Golden Scarab is their god. They are big men, who fight well, and they have cities as fine as any in India, with great temples, on which are signs cut in stone by their ancestors, and where they worship the Golden Scarab. It is in one of those cities that we shall find Sahib Leslie.” “Holy pancakes!” broke out Patsy. “I feel as if I were going nutty. I’ll be glad when I get back to the good old United States. This India is too rich for my nerves.” “Keep quiet, Patsy,” admonished Chick. “I want to get at the rights of this thing. So does the chief. What’s the use of you interrupting all the time?” “Interrupting?” echoed Patsy. “If I didn’t say something once in a while, I’d blow up.” “Go on with your story, Adil,” requested Nick Carter. “And, Patsy, please do not ask any more questions. I’ll do the cross-examining, if there has to be any.”