Forward, March

Kirk Munroe
Forward, March

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Title: "Forward, March" A Tale of the Spanish-American War
Author: Kirk Munroe

Release Date: July 7, 2005 [eBook #16231]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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"FORWARD, MARCH"

A Tale of the Spanish-American War
by
KIRK MUNROE
Author of "The Painted Desert," "Rick Dale," The "Mate Series," etc.
Illustrated
New York and London Harper & Brothers Publishers
1899

[Frontispiece: The Rough Riders fought without seeing the enemy.]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I.
A BOWL OF ROSES II. WAR IS DECLARED III. ROLLO THE
TERROR IV. THE ROUGH RIDERS AT SAN ANTONIO V. RIDGE
BECOMES A TROOPER VI. OFF FOR THE WAR VII. THE STORY
OF HOBSON AND THE MERRIMAC VIII. CHARGED WITH A
SECRET MISSION IX. HERMAN DODLEY INTERPOSES
DIFFICULTIES X. ON THE CUBAN BLOCKADE XI. A LIVELY
EXPERIENCE OF CUBAN HOSPITALITY XII. DENOUNCED BY
A FRIEND XIII. TO BE SHOT AT SUNRISE XIV. REFUGEES IN
THE MOUNTAINS XV. DIONYSIO CAPTURES A SPANIARD
XVI. ASLEEP WHILE ON GUARD XVII. IN THE HANDS OF
SPANISH GUERILLAS XVIII. DEATH OF SEÑORITA XIX.
CALIXTO GARCIA THE CUBAN XX. THE TWO ADMIRALS XXI.

A SPANIARD'S LOYALTY XXII. ROLLO IN CUBA XXIII. THE
"TERRORS" IN BATTLE XXIV. FACING SAN JUAN HEIGHTS
XXV. RIDGE WINS HIS SWORD XXVI. MUTINY ON A
TRANSPORT XXVII. DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH SHIPS
XXVIII. LAST SHOT OF THE CAMPAIGN XXIX. TWO INVALID
HEROES XXX. ROLLO MAKES PROPOSITIONS

ILLUSTRATIONS
THE ROUGH RIDERS FOUGHT WITHOUT SEEING THE
ENEMY . . . (Frontispiece)
"SILAS PINE GAZED ABOUT HIM WITH THE AIR OF ONE WHO
IS DAZED"
"'HIM HOLGUIN SPANIARD. NOW YOU SHOOT HIM,' SAID
THE CUBAN"
RIDGE ESCORTS A CUBAN FAMILY INTO SANTIAGO

"FORWARD, MARCH!"


CHAPTER I
A BOWL OF ROSES
In the morning-room of a large, old-fashioned country-house, situated a
few miles outside the city of New Orleans, sat a young man arranging a
bowl of roses. Beside him stood a pretty girl, in riding costume, whose
face bore a trace of petulance.
"Do make haste, Cousin Ridge, and finish with those stupid flowers.

You have wasted half an hour of this glorious morning over them
already!" she exclaimed.
"Wasted?" rejoined Ridge Norris, inquiringly, and looking up with a
smile. "I thought you were too fond of flowers to speak of time spent in
showing them off to best advantage as 'wasted.'"
"Yes, of course I'm fond of them," answered Spence Cuthbert, who was
from Kentucky on a Mardi Gras visit to Dulce Norris, her school-chum
and cousin by several removes, "but not fond enough to break an
engagement on account of them."
"An engagement?"
"Certainly. You promised to go riding with me this morning."
"And so I will in a minute, when I have finished with these roses."
"But I want you to come this instant."
"And leave a duty unperformed?" inquired Ridge, teasingly.
"Yes; now."
"In a minute."
"No. I won't wait another second."
With this the girl flung herself from the room, wearing a very
determined expression on her flushed face.
Ridge rose to follow her, and then resumed his occupation as a clatter
of hoofs on the magnolia-bordered driveway announced the arrival of a
horseman.
"She won't go now that she has a caller to entertain," he said to himself.
But in this he was mistaken; for within a minute another clatter of
hoofs, mingled with the sound of laughing voices, gave notice of a

departure, and, glancing from an open window, Ridge saw Spence
Cuthbert ride gayly past in company with a young man whose face
seemed familiar, but whose name he could not recall.
As they swept by both looked up laughing, while the horseman lifted
his hat in a bow that was almost too sweeping to be polite.
"What did you say Ridge was doing?" he asked, as they passed beyond
earshot.
"Arranging a bowl of roses," answered Spence.
"Nice occupation for a man," sneered the other. "And he preferred
doing that to riding with you?"
"So it seems."
"Well, I am not wholly surprised, for, as I remember him, he was a
soft-hearted, Miss Nancy sort of a boy, who was always coddling sick
kittens, or something of the kind, and never would go hunting because
he couldn't bear to kill things. He apparently hadn't a drop of sporting
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