|PIERRE LUZON led Leach Sharkey along the trail. Beyond Comanche Point it dipped again owing to the contour of the mountain, then at a distance of about fifty yards, took a sharp turn round an abrupt face of rock.
"Where the hell are you taking me?" asked the sleuth, as they approached this bend.
"Only a little further," replied the guide, in a feeble quavering voice as he glanced over his shoulder.
The men were only a few paces apart. In the shadow cast by the cliff, Pierre's pallid face with its stubbly white beard looked like that of a veritable ancient, and his bent form and tottering steps completed the picture. The sleuth smiled at his momentary discomposure.
Around the turn, however, Pierre grabbed at a revolver lying ready to his hand on a ledge of rock, and when Sharkey followed, it was to find a hale and stalwart man, erect, alert, with the flash of conscious power in his eyes.
"Hands up!" cried Pierre, in a voice of stern command. Leach Sharkey was standing three short steps away and was looking now into the muzzle of a big automatic pistol. Over his countenance there stole a sickly smile. But he knew the rules of the game too well to attempt any resistance. His hands went slowly above his head until both arms were fully extended.
"You've got the drop on me all right, José," he murmured, in self-apology.
"Face the rock," came the next curt order--the very tone was reminiscent of old bandit days.
Sharkey obeyed in silence, and in a trice both his guns were withdrawn from their holsters and flung among the brushwood.
"You go ahead now," said Pierre, stepping aside to let the other pass. "You can drop your hands, but if you cry out or attempt to run, zen you are one dead man."
The discomfited sleuth meekly complied, although there was now a black scowl on his face as he stepped on ahead. In all his professional career, Leach Sharkey had never before fallen so ignominiously into a trap like this.
Not a word was spoken while a distance of some two hundred yards was being traversed. Then Pierre called out the one word: "Halt!"
Sharkey did not dare even to look round. He stood still as a piece of statuary.
"You sit on zat stone over zere," continued Pierre, "and do not rise until I give you permission. Now we will proceed to business."