“He’s a yellow dog, that’s what he is,” Sydney exploded, “and I’d like to tell him so to his face, and I will, the first chance I get.”
“No, you won’t, Syd,” Phil said firmly; “remember ashore here we’re under his orders. Don’t give him an opportunity to make it unpleasant. It’s bad enough as it stands.
“There’s where we can be of service,” he suddenly exclaimed as his eye followed the trailing end of a wire. “The telegraph instruments were saved and are over there in the grass; we’ll connect up and see if we can get Palilo.”
After a half hour’s work with the help of the single signal corps man, the instrument had been remounted inside of a tent and the lads watched eagerly as the operator endeavored to call up headquarters. The instrument clicked rhythmically for a fraction of a minute and as it ceased the receiving relay clicked loudly in return.
“The line’s O. K., sir,” the soldier said as his hand rested on the sending key, and he looked up for orders. “Shall I tell Palilo that we’re all right?”
Phil was about to answer when he suddenly remembered the stinging words of the lieutenant. Pocketing his pride once more he shook his head. “Report to the lieutenant that the line is through,” he said as the two lads turned away.
A few moments afterward, while they stood outside the tent they heard the clicks of the sending key. Each listened intently; not with any idea of eavesdropping but because on board ship it had been a custom formed in their Annapolis days to read all signals. In this way they both had perfected themselves in all forms of signaling and could read in all codes.
“To Adjutant-General, Palilo:
“I attacked insurgents besieging garrison at daylight. Placing the gunboat on one flank, I sent guard with Colt gun on the other. Attack was a perfect success. We have captured nearly two hundred rifles. We have no casualties. Baker still away.
“Tillotson.”