The whole party
became intoxicated, and proceeded on their mission up the street yelling
and firing random shots at the windows. This little festivity, which
might have turned out dangerous to the telegraphist's life, enabled him
in the end to send his warning to Sulaco. The lieutenant, staggering
upstairs with a drawn sabre, was before long kissing him on both
cheeks in one of those swift changes of mood peculiar to a state of
drunkenness. He clasped the telegraphist close round the neck, assuring
him that all the officers of the Esmeralda garrison were going to be
made colonels, while tears of happiness streamed down his sodden face.
Thus it came about that the town major, coming along later, found the
whole party sleeping on the stairs and in passages, and the telegraphist
(who scorned this chance of escape) very busy clicking the key of the
transmitter. The major led him away bareheaded, with his hands tied
behind his back, but concealed the truth from Sotillo, who remained in
ignorance of the warning despatched to Sulaco.
The colonel was not the man to let any sort of darkness stand in the way
of the planned surprise.
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