"He will go himself."
The answer disposed of Will's last hope. The only means of saving the prisoners was to deal with the General himself. It was a desperate game to play in the midst of a hostile camp, but his first move, with Machado, had been successful, and the man was so cowed and terror-stricken that he might prove a serviceable instrument in the larger scheme. Time was running short; it was a quarter past eleven. Will made up his mind to risk all.
"Dismiss the man at your door," he said. "Tell him that you need him no longer. You will take the message to the General yourself. Attempt no treachery. I will keep my word."
He motioned to Azito, of whose presence Machado seemed to become aware for the first time, to stand behind a clothes-press near the camp-bed.
"Open the door only a few inches," he continued. "Now!"
He stepped behind the door, allowing room for it to open about twelve inches. He could not be seen by the man in the patio, but was able to cover Machado with his revolver. The telegraphist lay for a few moments as though hesitating.
"Quick!" said Will in a fierce whisper.
Machado rose unsteadily and, walking to the door, opened it. In a low voice he called to the sleeping man. There was no reply or movement.
"Kick him!" whispered Will.
Machado touched the man with his foot. He started up. Machado gave him the instruction Will had dictated, and he went off at once, glad enough, no doubt, to find a more comfortable bed. When he was gone, Will closed the door.