Of the two, I would rather
contend with the former.
The long and trying days dragged slowly by and still no news. Finally,
on the 22nd of June, it was known that the army was landing; June 24th,
the Guasimas fight of the cavalry division took place, and from that
time on life was made miserable for me by importunate women. Many
telegrams--yes, hundreds of them--came to me every day, and each time
one of those cursed little yellow envelopes was put in my hands, if I
happened to be in the 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.
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