OCR Text |
Show fl One ChrtstmcLS Day. fl They were on tho same transport, the Man H and She, which shows what silly pranks fate plays B with the soldiers of the Republic. They were fl looking at the same point of the disappearing B scenic frolic of the waves, although they were B some distance apart, and Catherine Gray had not fl yet learned that Lieutenant Burwell was a pas- B senger on the Hancock. They could still see fl the white surf as it whipped at the Golden Gate fl and blurred the beetling back of Alcatrtiz. B The scene had no allurements for the Lieu- fl tenant. Mrs. Gray was accompanying her daugh- B tor to the Philippines, and that the lieutenant fl knew could only have one meaning. They were B to meet Captain Wentley in Luzon, where the B fairest woman in the world was to become the fl biide of his old comrade. B The thirty day voyage was unspeakably tedi- B ous to Lieutenant Burwell. The calm days were B interminable, and the cheery chatter of his fellow B ofliceis drove him to a multifold seepage of B Scotch. The day most pleasing to him on the fl long journey was when a gale came out of the H western horizon and the demons of the deep B smote the transport with the tumult of the tower- B ing phalanx of the storm. Lieutenant Burwell B wished the waves would tuck the boat away In B its nethermost fathoms and thereupon imbibed K another Scotch. B He did not see very much of Cathrine Gray. B A man finds it a task heroic to converse with the B woman who has rejected him. B It was one of the fairest of tfoplr days when B the Hancock entered Manila harbor. Also it was B Christmas day, although Burwell took no part in H the festivities which the officers were voicily ob- B serving in the salon. He wondered lazily why fl Wentley was not there to meet Miss Gray. For himself it would surely be the bleakest Christmas B of his career. He looked without emotion and B for the first time to where the giant Corrigador B flofied the skies like a colossal challenger of the B King of Storms; he saw the bright landscape of prone and lazy Cavite; and in the distance the huge walls and menacing armament of Manila. A large crowd had gathered on the deck; Tag-alog Tag-alog fruit venders in hideous barges were calling up at tho passengers in Insane dithyrambs; Burwell Bur-well dimly heard the tumult of many voices. Some one tapped him on tho shoulder. It was Captain Cartwright of the signal corps. "You look sea sick, Burwell," remarked the captain. "Guess you haven't heard the news. Cruiser over the way just 'signalled 'Wentley killed in action yesterday.' An old friend ot yours, wasn't he?" There was a sudden scream as Burwell leaped to his feet; and he was just in time to see a pair of despairing eyes and to clasp in his arms the swaying form of the woman he loved Together they were being driven through the jagged and guttered streets of the old Spanish citadel. Mrs. Gray was soothingly caressing her daughter, who had not spoken since they left the deck of the Hancock. Burwell was looking out at the strange squat buildings of the walled city, and the occasional bamboo bailiwicks of the natives; na-tives; the dethroned Spaniards gesticulating formidably for-midably and moving on with their peculiar noiseless noise-less stride; and squads of American soldiers with the nonchalance of a conscious superiority in their majestic and swaggering mien. Lieutenant Burwell had not the courage to look again upon the pale face of the woman beside him. He could not forget that for one moment which should live forever, asheheld her in his arms, he could not repress a great exultation over the death of her lover and his friend. A short time after they reached the Hotel De Oriente, a fatigued horseman arrived, and a moment mo-ment later Miss Giay was in the arms of Captain Wentley. Another Wentley, he explained, when told of the signal incident, out among the Moros. They turned beamingly to where Lieutenant Burwell had been standing a moment before. But that stalwart young officer, with a strange look on his face, was walking with rapid strides along the unfamiliar streets of the Escolta. ANGUS NICHOLSON, it |