Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1899-02-15

waiting and watching. You hurry, and
on either side through the palms there
| comes cracking as of branches being
| roddeD under foot. Your blood grows
cold, and then you smile to yourself In
sickly sort Of way as you realize that the
hand crabs are running from you. They
are plainly to be seen in the road now,
big fellows, blue and black aud red and
yellow. They hurl themselves hurriedly
from danger in their peculiar awkward
way, and you hate them, for you know
that were you dead on that spot within
All hour these vermin would have picked
your skull As clean as vuitures.
The never-endng road still winds on
once more dotting it. Three of
them are sitting Oh a boulder. Two of
them have been shot in the arm, the other
both IN the shoulder and the thigh. He
is weakening fast and the others are try
Ing to cheer him up.
sit amt the pain" he says, "it's the
loss OF blood that's killing me. How far
is it now? Have we come to the hill
where the rough riders fought?'
NOl yet, hbsWeTS one OF the SOlUlefS,
''but it is very near.'
swell, Pti get that far, anyway" is the
mans response, and he struggles to his
tired feet.
In the dist ance there can be heard the
jingle of a bell. 1t comes closer and
closer, and soon around bend appears
the head of mule train carrying am
.;t;.
on tue morrow. Behind come numbering
half dozen wagons, carrying supplies,
each with eight powerful mules hauling
it through the miry road. The drivers
curse and crack their whips. Tue mules
struggle into gailop and plunge down
hill, Soon the tinkIe of the pack trains
bell and then the thunder of the wagon
wheels are lost 1t is rs peaceful as though
the war did not exist. Tue land crabs
flee in their fiendish way from before your
feet and with half an hour of steady
marching you stand on the rough riders
hul.
To the right, just on the crown over
locking the valley to the sout b, are seven
wooden slabs stuck into the earth side by
oiuS W lbdi WDeIe lGil Tue lFSt ueTOSS Ill
the camp ign against Santiago. A
wounded man is lying near The graves He
lifts his head at the approaching sounds.
"Piayed out, he says LaconicaiIy. "Shot
in the shoulder. Finish the trip to-mor-
row."
No complaint; no regret; just grit.
From this hlt the road leads down into
III.
shines. The moon is drowned. 1t is as
black as a cavern. Rocks, loose and Jag
ged, fill the roadway and render the
footing unsafe. Branches reach out from
the brush aud whip your face. 1t is un-
canny. Strange insects are singing here
aud there, and far off you hear he call of
the cuckoo which 50 often betokens he
presence of ,paniards ~ lug in wait for
the invaders. Then there comes the an
swerins cry rti!l further on, and you
wonder what is going II happen to you.
Your imagination grows vivid. Dark
| figures appear down the road. They look
like men crouching. A dash of noon
light through rift in the overhauglng
clouds OF tropical foliage falls On the dewy
p'7ue VI 1t paih eItd cuHhSes IL ihIo tHt
cleaning bayonet of Spanish soldier.
/ The scenes of the bloody day just done
have been sucp As unetriug nerves, nd
while you chlde yourself for your foolish
fancles you hurry along, hurry along,
hoping tor the end.
Aud oy and by it comes. You have
| reached the level sandy stretcA behind the
ridge on which sits oiboney, and round
ing the end through the raviue which
cuts down to the sea, you have before
you the tents ana camp fires OF the SOL
diers at the base and the cottages of the
ubans. 1t has not been "a pleasant Jour
| ney, but you have seen one of the phases
OF warfare, and that is much.