Disdaining cover, the detective jumped into the middle of the path and rushed into the crowd of dark-browed Hindus who were shooting hatred from their black eyes as fast as they were sending arrows on their vain mission of death. “Club your rifles and knock them down,” was Nick Carter’s order. He swung his heavy revolver--he had no rifle--and brought down the foremost man like an ox struck by a sledge hammer. Then he darted forward until he was by the side of Leslie Arnold. Two powerful natives were holding the young man by the arms, but in his right hand he still gripped the repeating rifle which he was no longer able to use. With one blow of the revolver, Nick sent the man on Leslie’s left to the ground, and shooting out his left fist almost simultaneously, he caught the other fellow and laid him flat by the side of his comrade. “Get to work with your gun, Leslie!” shouted Nick Carter. “Here come more of them!” Indeed, it seemed as if there were no end to the evil-looking rascals now. They came from below, as well as above. There was murder in every one of their fierce, scowling faces. “It’s no use!” exclaimed Leslie Arnold. “They have us now. We can only try to fight our way down the hill, and get clear if we can.” “You bet we can!” yelled Patsy Garvan, who had been fighting so hard that he was bathed in perspiration. “We can wipe out the whole works, if we stick to it. Come on, Chick! Watch me lay out that crooked-eyed citizen in front--the one who is swinging the spear.” Chick had emptied the magazine of his rifle, but the weapon made a splendid club, and he circled it viciously in the air, so that it cleared the way all around him. But, fight as they would, it was apparent that the small party could not hope to prevail against all these savage Hindus. There seemed to be fifty, at least. It was now, when the situation looked hopeless, that an inspiration came to Nick Carter. He saw that his party could not win with ordinary weapons. But he might use something else. It was worth trying, at all events. With a loud shout of “Look! All of you!” he raised his hand and held before these men from the Land of the Golden Scarab, something upon which the sun shone redly and seemed to endow with life as he waved it about. For a space while one might count three there was silence. Then, as Nick stepped forward, holding the object, whatever it was, in his hand, and pushing it into the face of the first man in the rank, an awful shriek arose, and the whole crowd turned and fled. “Holy Gumbert!” cried Patsy. “What’s the answer?” “Chase them!” ordered Nick. “After them!” “What’s struck them?” asked Chick. “Never mind!” returned Nick. “We’ve got those fellows on the run! Keep them there!” That the whole gathering of Bolongus had been seized with unreasoning panic was perfectly plain. They kept on running, throwing down their spears and bows and arrows, and still Nick Carter and his party kept after them.