Nick Carter had the witch doctor in such a firm grip that there was no danger of his getting away.
“Keep back!” requested the detective. “I’d rather deal with him alone. We’ll have him where we want him in a moment.”
Slowly, Nick twisted the man’s right arm until his fingers relaxed and the knife he had kept firmly in his grasp throughout dropped from his hand.
“Pick up that knife!” directed the detective.
Chick had the knife in his hand almost before his chief spoke, and stuck it in his belt.
“There’s some rope by that couch, Patsy,” went on Nick. “Bring it over. We’ll tie him up. Then we shall be able to see what we have to do.”
A minute or two was sufficient time in which to secure the wretch’s arms and legs. Then they put him on the couch, where he lay silent, except for his heav
