Transcriber’s Notes:
The original spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been retained, with the exceptionof apparent typographical errors which have been corrected.
NICK CARTER
STORIES
Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by Street & Smith, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York.
Copyright, 1915, by Street & Smith. O.G. Smith and G.C. Smith, Proprietors.
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No. 134. NEW YORK, April 3, 1915. Price Five Cents.
Edited by CHICKERING CARTER.
“No, Carter! I shall not go back until I have got myhands on that wretched crook, William Pike, and I don’tcare if it leads me into the very heart of this strangecountry where they say a white man never has come fromalive.”
The speaker was Jefferson Arnold, the multimillionaireshipowner and importer of Oriental goods, whose establishmentwas one of the best known of its kind in NewYork City.
His firm jaw came together with a snap, and his darkeyes sparkled with determination in the red light of thecamp fire, as he looked at the world-renowned detectivefor approval of his determination.
“I am rather glad to hear you say that,” was Nick Carter’scalm reply.
Jefferson Arnold jumped up from the rock upon which hehad been sitting and went around to shake the detective bythe hand.
“I knew you would agree with me,” he shouted. “Wehave found my son Leslie among these rascals, andwe’ve driven them back, over the Himalayas all right.But that is not enough for me. I want to see what thesemysteries are that we have heard so much about.”
“Bully for you, Mr. Arnold!” cried Patsy Garvan.“That’s the stuff. I want to lick one or two of thoseblack brutes for what they did to us the last time we hada mix-up.”
“What do you mean?” put in Chick. “I ask that as firstlieutenant of the greatest detective in the world. We licked’em, di