If Richard could have heard the conversation among the Regulators before they waited upon him, he might have been flattered by the complimentary manner in which his name was handled. His talents and his muscle, no less than his growing popularity, were appreciated by the band, and it was more desirable to win him than it was to drive him out. They knew what a valuable acquisition he would be to their number. But he must stand one side, and wait for his turn before he aspired to become a leader.
The Regulators, using the utmost caution, unloosed the prisoner, and marched him back to the camp. When they reached the line, they threw him upon the ground. While one of the largest of them, having all the advantage, held him there, the others disappeared in the darkness. The fellow that held him then removed the strap from the arms of the captive, and bounded away as fast as his legs would carry him.
Richard jumped up as quick as he could and gave chase. But the Regulator had the start of him, and the pursuit was useless. The victim returned to his beat, felt round upon the ground till he found his gun, picked it up, and resumed his solitary walk. He was a little confused by the events which had transpired, and he was forced to acknowledge that the Regulators had managed their business with consummate address and skill. He hardly knew what to make of the affair. He knew that he had been whipped; this fact was still patent to his consciousness in the tingling sensation that played over his legs.
The whole thing seemed very much like an illusion. It was almost too strange and ridiculous to be credited, and he could not help considering whether he had not actually been walking in his sleep this time. The Regulators appeared, to his sober senses, to be the most absurd institution ever invented by the mischievous brain of a boy. Yet he could not disbelieve the evidence of his senses, and especially of his smarting legs, and he was compelled to admit that the society actually existed; though there was a remote possibility that the whole affair was a practical joke, devised by Nevers and his clique.
We have before intimated, in the course of this story, that Richard Grant was an "old head." He had a very tolerable conception of the principles of strategy; therefore he did not do as most boys would have done—make a tremendous row over the occurrences of the night. He decided that it would be politic for him to keep both eyes and both ears open, while he kept his mouth closed. By this course he hoped to obtain a clew to the mystery, and thus eventually to make the daylight shine in upon the dark proceedings of the Regulators.
"Where have you been this hour?" demanded the sentinel, whose beat was next to his own, when they met.
"I haven't been far off," replied Richard; "that is, not more than half a mile off," he added, in a tone so low that his companion could not hear him.
"I understand. You have been taking a nap."
"'Pon my word, I haven't."
"But you have; I haven't seen you before for an hour."