While they yet spoke, a soldier, wrapt up in a cloak, approached the sentinel, and said—
“It is a cold night, brother.”
“Piercing,” replied the other, striking his feet upon the ground.
“You are welcome to a mouthful of my spirit-warmer,” added the first, taking a bottle from beneath his cloak.
“Thank ye!” rejoined the sentinel; “but I don’t know your voice. You don’t belong to our corps, I think.”
“No,” answered the other; “but it matters not for that—brother soldiers should give and take.”
The sentinel took the bottle and raised it to his lips; he drank, and swore the liquor was excellent.
“Drink again,” said the other; “you are welcome; it is as good as a double cloak around you.” And the sentinel drank again.
“Good night, comrade,” said the trooper. “Good night,” replied the sentinel; and the stranger passed on.
Within half an hour, the same soldier, still muffled up in his cloak, returned. The sentinel had fallen against the door of the house, and was fast asleep. The stranger proceeded to the window—he raised it—he entered. “Fear nothing,” he whispered to the prisoners, who were bound to staples that had been driven into the opposite wall of the room. He cut the cords with which their hands and their feet were fastened.