Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-08-01

to 60 out and bring him. A steward
from the Red Cross society and the
New York Sun correspondent went with
them. Mr.. Crane, who had been in the
battle earlier in the morning, led the
way. 1t was a scorching day, and the
~ mile climb over the rugged hills
which roll away to within a couple Of
miles of Santiago made the two fat men
in the company blow hard. A narrow
road, scarcely more than a bride path,
led to the field hospital, which had
been extemporized about 100 yards in
the rear of the battlefield.
Marshall and a dozen wounded SOL
diers lay on the grass. While still some
80 feet away Marshall recognized the
voice Of one of the men in his party and
called out quite loudly: "Hello, old
man! This is a funny place for us to
meet. Last time l saw you was in Lon
don, at the queens jubilee" AS he said
this he raised himself slightly on one
arm, and we saw that he was putting
away at a cigarette. Seeing this, it was
hard to realize that Marshall was a dan
gerously wounded man A sight Of his
wound, however, changed that opinion.
AS the men placed Marshall or the
litter a slight jolt was unavoidable. The
wounded man at once went off into a
fit, which lasted about ~ minutes.
Two Of the men held him down until
the agony was over A touch of NOR
phine revived him quickly, and the pro-
cession started coastward, with Mar
shall apparently quite himself again,
putting away at still another cigarette.
At this point the correspondent left to
60 on to the rough riders camp, a mile
farther on. 1t was agreed that he would
be able to overtake the litter after i'll
terviewing Colonel Roosevelt.
1t took 35 minutes to catch up with
the party, but it seemed like ten years.
Marshall was sleeping under the effect
of another opiate, but as we changed off
at the litter he woke and had another
terrible spasm. When he was quieted,
he began to sing "The Banks of the
Wabash" This sounds, I know, like an
extract from a Rhoda Broughton novel,
but it is true none the less. For nearly
half an hour, as we dragged the litter
along, Marshall kept repeating the
chorus Of this song over and over.
When he finally stopped, we could see
that either his pain or his morphine,
perhaps both, had made him delirious.
He clutched MI. Coffin by the hand.
"Cofin," he cried, "I'm ON the city
desk tonight, and we've got to beat the
town on the story of this fight. Between
it and the story Of my falling down that
coal hole and breaking my back ought
to make a great paper tomorrow. Have
a hanson waiting for me Oh the beach,
and we'll drive down to Guantanamo
and knock the devil out of the other fell
lows"
At the end of the fourth mile the two
colored sailors, who had tramped all
the way in their bare feet, collapsed.
The Red Cross maa and the correspond
emit decided that the best thing for them
to do was to hurry on to camp, secure
AuOIo uoAp auu WAllnhy auu SoV udCh Us
soon as possible. Bronson Rea supplied
the bottle Of whisky, and Mr.. Dunwid-
die and his soldiers volunteered to go
out with us and help carry Marshall
down the hillside, a steep slant of fully
half a mile. In the meantime an officer
Of one Of the colored regiments on picket
duty had met the party struggling along
about q mile and a half out. He imme,
diately ordered six stalwart negroes to
carry the litter.
At 8 o'clock we reached the railroad
shed, which had been turned into a EN-
porary hospital, and found it crowded
to the doors, but in almost total dark
ness. Three candles were all the light
that the surgeons and Red Gross men
had to work by. There wasn't even a
torch. As we carried Marshall in and