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Updated: June 24, 2025
"I prefer a quiet life on the ranch." "Which we are in a fair way to see in a few weeks," commented Adrian. "I have no doubt that General Funston will do as he agreed and find us passage." "I for one shall be glad to return to the States," said Donald. "So shall I after I have found out about Santiago's connection with that ten thousand pounds." "That's right," was the laughing rejoinder.
"Somebody must swim across and fasten a cable over there by which to tow the rafts across. Who will volunteer? You see what's before you," Funston asserted. Horace Carey saw two soldiers, Corporal Trembly and Private Edward White, seize the cable, plunge into the river, and strike out directly toward the farther side filled with Filipino forces. Rifle balls split the water about them.
On this evening he had talked almost incessantly to Alexina, and she, in the vocabulary of her years and set, had thought him frantically interesting as he described the immediate command of the city assumed by General Funston, the efforts of the Committee of Fifty, formed early that morning by leading citizens, to help preserve order and to give assistance to the refugees; of rich young men, and middle-aged citizens who had not spent an afternoon away from their club window for ten years, carrying dynamite in their cars through the very flames; of wild and terrible episodes he had witnessed or heard of during the day.
We are in a bad box and the only thing to do is to make the best of it." "We?" exclaimed the newcomer. "Why do you say we?" "Because I am a prisoner the same as you are. Now, who are you?" "I'm Lieutenant Grimes of the general's staff. Who are you?" "I am Donald Mackay, on a special mission for Gen. Funston." "How did they get you?" "Kidnaped me on the street. How did they get you?" "Same way.
"I can't exactly explain," was Adrian's reply, "but my prairie training always warns me to go slow when I sense danger." "A mighty good idea," muttered one of the troopers, an old campaigner who had seen service with Funston in the Philippines. "These are slippery chaps." "If I could walk," was Adrian's comment, "I'd soon find out what is wrong; but you can't scout on horseback."
Deeper far, more comprehensive, and voiced with splendid courage, are Mark Twain's interpretations of American democracy and his mirroring of the national ideals. His "defence" of General Funston is a scorching and devastating blast, red with the fires of patriotism.
On Friday, while the flames were still making their way onward, General Funston telegraphed: "Famine seems inevitable." The people of the country took a more hopeful view of it, and by Saturday night the spectre of famine was definitely driven from the field and food for all the fugitives was within reach. On all sides the people were awake and doing.
"Special messenger for Gen. Funston," was the response. "Where is your uniform?" "I'm not a soldier. I am a civilian." "A likely story," snapped the officer, who chanced to be an ensign. "I can't help how likely it is," snapped Donald in return. "It's true, and I want to be put ashore as quickly as possible. I have an important message and the safety of one of his staff is involved.
General Funston was just then engaged in capturing the rebel chief, Aguinaldo, and for a few moments both man and boy observed the occurrence with rapt attention.
And now, as to your LETTERS, they came to-day, five of them, COUNT 'EM, and the pictures did make me laugh. I showed those of the soldier commandeering the vegetables to Funston and he laughed. And, I did love the flowers you sent no matter HOW homesick they made me! I do not want a camera. I have one, and those fancy cameras I don't understand.
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