"
"Haven't you got a correspondent's pass?" asked the officer. He was
busily pouring square hardtack down the throat of a saddle-bag a
Cuban soldier held open before him.
"No," said Channing, turning away, "I'm just helping."
The officer looked after him, and what he saw caused him to reach
under the counter for a tin cup and a bottle of lime-juice.
"Here," he said, "drink this. What's the matter with you--fever? Come
in here out of that sun. You can lie down on my cot, if you like."
Channing took the tin cup and swallowed a warm mixture of boiled
water and acrid lime-juice.
"Thank you," he said, "but I must keep watch for the first news from
the front."
A man riding a Government mule appeared on the bridge of the lower
trail, and came toward them at a gallop. He was followed and
surrounded by a hurrying mob of volunteers, hospital stewards, and
Cubans.
The Colonel vaulted the counter and ran to meet him.
"This looks like news from the front now," he cried.
The man on the mule was from civil life. His eyes bulged from their
sockets and his face was purple. The sweat ran over it and glistened
on the cords of his thick neck.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191