“What is to be done? if I answer him, it will alarm the sentry. I will wait until he comes closer to the wall.”
I could tell that he was creeping nearer and nearer.
Finding he had not been answered, the howling ceased. I stood listening eagerly to every sound from without. My comrades, who had now become apprised of Lincoln’s proximity, had risen to their feet and were leaning against the walls.
We were about half an hour in this situation, without exchanging a word, when a light tap was heard from without, and a soft voice whispered:
“Hola, Capitan!”
I placed my ear to the aperture. The whisper was repeated. It was not Lincoln—that was clear.
It must be Narcisso.
“Quien?” I asked.
“Yo, Capitan.”
I recognised the voice that had addressed me in the morning.