With two other soldiers Hyman darted into the shop, from which they soon came out with Cerverra, who protested strongly.
Meanwhile Vicente Tomba had discovered a cause of discomfort.
"Señor Sergente," he complained, "during our struggle in the cellar you knocked my cigarettes from my hand. I beg that you let one of your soldiers take this piece of money into a shop and buy me more cigarettes."
"Shall I do it, Sergeant?" inquired Hyman.
"Tomba," laughed Hal, "after all the trouble that that last cigarette cost you I should think you'd feel like cutting out the habit forever. I know I would drop any habit that had gotten me into such a mess. Had you not wanted to smoke underground I would not have had such a fine chance to upset you. Very likely you would have won, instead of me."
"But I want cigarettes, now," retorted Tomba almost fiercely. "It is ungenerous to deprive me of them."
"Shall I let a man get them for him?" asked Hyman.
"Yes; if he insists," nodded Hal. "What an idiot a man is to allow cigarettes to make such a slave of him that he can't pass an hour without one."
A soldier was accordingly dispatched to the nearest tobacconist on Tomba's errand. While this was taking place Hal hurriedly told his chum and Corporal Hyman what had happened to him, and how he had escaped.
In all this time perhaps two score of curious natives had gathered in the street, though all of them kept at a respectful distance. Sergeant Hal examined these people keenly, though he failed to see any of the eight from whom he had had such difficulty in escaping.