After a time Leonard returned to consciousness, the jolting ride and the drenching rain arousing his nerves into action. He attempted to struggle, but soon found that the effort was futile. He could move neither his hands nor his feet, and, as he only maintained an upright position by the aid of his companion, he conceived the idea that it would be policy to remain quiet.
On recovering from the effects of the blow he had received, he had immediately comprehended his situation, and was aware that he was being carried rapidly out of town for some purpose—though what he could not imagine.
“Where am I?” he asked; “and who are you?”
“Ah, you’re awake, awake, are you?” was the reply. “You’ll find out who I am soon enough. I’ll take you to a place where you’ll come to terms, I’ll be bound. If you had been reasonable, and given me what I wanted, you might have been abed and asleep by this time. Now I’m afraid it will go a little hard with you.”
“Oh, you’re still harping on that, are you?” said Leonard. “Well, I’ll give you all the pieces of paper I’ve got, if you will leave me one ten-dollar bill for present necessities.”
“Too late now; you ought to have made that offer when I first came up with you. You must go with me now, and I’m thinking you won’t come back in a hurry either.”
“Why? What do you mean?” asked Leonard, in some alarm.
“Oh, nothing, only it will be necessary to take you to a place that you probably never dreamt of; and if we should let you go, it might be the ruination of us.”
“If you should let me go! And don’t you mean to let me go?”
“We can tell better about that pretty soon. By the lightning, how it does pour down! Get up, Bill!”