The noise of her fall and the scream with which she awoke served to arouse one or two others, who lifted their heads to gaze stupidly about them.
But Charlot was busy stirring the other slumberers.

He had found a whip, and with this he was now laying vigorously about him.
"Up, you swine!" he blazed at them.

"Afoot, you drunken scum!" His whip cracked, and his imprecations rang high and lurid.

And La Boulaye assisted him in his labours with kicks and cuffs and a tongue no less vituperative.
At last they were on their feet--a pale, bewildered, shamefaced company--receiving from the infuriated Charlot the news that whilst they had indulged themselves in their drunken slumbers their prisoners had escaped and carried off the treasure with them.

The news was received with a groan of dismay, and several turned to the door to ascertain for themselves whether it was indeed exact.