new arrival
placidly. "Here's that young man Foster!" and as he spoke the lattice
doors again swung open, and, very pale, a tall youth in civilian dress
was ushered in, at sight of whom Major Farquhar fairly shouted.

--------------------

"How'd I get him?" said the new-comer five minutes later. "Found him
aboard the Coptic when she met us as we were pulling out from Honolulu.
He was going back to the States. Left Hong Kong before the story was
published. Didn't want to come, of course, but had to."

"Wasn't there time to write his mother? They surely would have cabled,
and the Coptic must have got into San Francisco a week ago."

"Certainly! Letter was sent right on by the steamer, addressed to
Cincinnati."

"O Lord!" said Drayton. "And she was at 'Frisco all the time. Colonel,"
he added to his chief-of-staff, "what's the first transport home?"

"Zealandia, sir; to-morrow."

"Sorry for the Zealandia, but Zenobia must go with her."

CHAPTER XX.

Of course we had not heard the last of her. Honolulu correspondents of
the press had little to write of in those days, but made their little
long, and Zenobia's stories were the biggest things yet brought from
Manila. Those stories were seven days getting from Honolulu to San
Francisco, which was less than half the time it took their author to
bring them to listening ears. Anybody aboard the Zealandia could have
told the scribes the lady was a fabricator of the first magnitude, but
what live correspondent wants to have a good story spoiled? In just
twenty-seven days from that on which Zenobia bade farewell to Manila her
winged words were flashed all over the States, and by thousands were the
stones swallowed that death, disease, pestilence and famine, bribery and
corruption, vice and debauchery, desertion and demoralization ran riot
in the army at Manila, all due to the incapacity, if not actual
complicity, of officers in high position. But mercifully were they
spared the knowledge of these astonishing facts until the papers
themselves began to reach the Eighth Corps some ten weeks after Zenobia
had left it to its fate, and by that time every fellow had his hands
full, for the long-looked-for outbreak had come at last, and the long,
thin Yankee fighting line was too busy making history to waste ink or
temper in denying yarns that, after all, were soon forgotten.

Then, too, we had been hearing stories that could not be denied right