lush_," he said; "but
what is her name? G-r-a-y--Gray man? Gray mare? Oh no, _Gray Nun_.
Queer name for a yacht, isn't it?"

"Yes; and those nurses on her deck don't look a bit like nuns," replied
Ensign Comly. "Believe I'll make a call if we lie here this evening,
for I understand that some of the nicest girls in the country have
enlisted under the Red Cross since you chaps were sent to Santiago."

"Wish I could join you," sighed Ridge; "only I haven't spoken to a girl
in so long that I shouldn't know what to say."

CHAPTER XXVIII

LAST SHOT OF THE CAMPAIGN

The American army occupying the muddy trenches before Santiago had been
rendered very unhappy that morning by a rumor that Cervera's ships had
made a dash from the harbor, evaded the blockade, and escaped almost
unharmed. How this rumor started no one knew, but it spread like
wildfire, and was generally believed. There was ample opportunity for
discussing it, since all firing had ceased, while under a flag of truce
an envoy from General Shafter demanded the surrender of Santiago. So
the men in the trenches were free to stand erect and stretch
themselves, to wander about, leaving their rifles in position between
the sand-bags, and even to make little fires, over which to boil cups
of coffee, all without drawing the fire of a single Spanish
sharp-shooter. It was a very novel sensation, and they enjoyed it. At
the same time they were not happy, for Cervera's ships had escaped.
What could the Yankee sailors have been about to let such a thing
happen? What a disgrace it was, and how the whole world would jeer!
Even Santiago seemed hardly worth capturing now.

All at once a sound of shouting was borne faintly to their ears from
the distant rear. What had happened? Had they been outflanked by the
Spaniards and attacked from that direction? No, for a band was playing
on El Poso Hill, and the sound of shouting was advancing, like a roar
of the sea. No one looked towards Santiago now, but all eyes, turned
to the rear, were fixed on the point where the Sevilla road left the
timber. At this place they gazed in eager but silent anticipation.
Suddenly a horseman emerged from it and dashed at full speed across the
valley, waving his hat and yelling as he came.

Up the slope of San Juan Hill he charged and through the terraced
camps, that broke into a jubilant roar as he reached them. But he did
not pause until he had gained the very trenches, where a