lobby of the hotel, I could feel forty or fifty
pairs of anxious eyes concentrated on me, as if to read from the
expression of my face whether the news was good or bad. Colonel Michler
of General Miles's staff was there, and if we should happen to be
together talking, the women would surmise that the news was bad; and
many times their surmises were just about right. One sweet little
black-eyed woman always said she could tell from my face whether I was
bluffing or not. July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, were very gloomy days for we
poor chaps who had been left behind--and for the women. We--they--knew
the fight was on, that men were heroically dying, and _we_ also knew
that the army was in a hard way. Strive as we might, no gleam of hope
could be culled from the news of those three days. Cervera's fleet was
still in the harbor of Santiago, and the army not only had the Spanish
troops to fight but the navy as well. Flesh and blood might stand the
rain of Mauser bullets, but they could not stand rapid-fire guns and
eight-inch shells. The third of July dragged by, and at eleven o'clock
Colonel Michler retired for the night not feeling in a very pleasant
frame of mind. The lobby was well nigh deserted, but Colonels Smith and
Powell and a few more officers sat by one of the big open doors having a
farewell smoke and chat before going to bed. At eleven-thirty I was
standing by the desk talking to the clerk, when the night operator came
charging out of the office and gave me a little piece of yellow paper. I
quickly opened it and read, "Sampson entirely destroyed Cervera's fleet
this morning." News like that, if true, was too good to keep, so I went
into the telegraph office and had a wire cut through to the New York
office and asked for a confirmation or denial of the report. They
confirmed it and gave me the text of the official report. I bounded out
in the hall and shouted out the glorious news at the top of my voice.
Gloom was dispelled instanter, and joy reigned supreme. At just twelve
o'clock midnight, we drank a toast to the army and navy, and to our
country.

Santiago surrendered and the army went to Porto Rico only to be stopped
in the midst of a most brilliant campaign by the signing of the
protocol. The censorship was ended and willingly did I lay down the blue
pencil and take up my sword.

CHAPTER XXVII

CONCLUSION

I cannot refrain from concluding this little volume by a tribute to the
telegraphers of the countr