Fighting in Cuban Waters Part 9

"Too late for phwat?" asked an Irishman standing near the sewer.

"We wanted to see the President."

"Sure an' there goes his carriage down beyant." And the Irishman pointed to a side street.

It was still less than a block away, and without stopping to think twice they made after it, and came up just as it was turning a corner. A very trim driver sat on the box of the turn-out, and on the rear seat, the sole occupant of the carriage, sat our country's chief executive.

"Hurrah!" shouted Walter, impulsively, and waved his cap, and Si did the same. Several others bowed and tipped their hats, and the President bowed and tipped his silk hat in return. Then the carriage rolled swiftly away.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PRESIDENT BOWED IN RETURN.]

"It was him all right enough," exclaimed Si, enthusiastically, and with a total disregard for grammar. "He looks jest like his pictures, only a little more care-worn. I suppose he loses lots o' sleep these nights."

"Yes, indeed. Being the President isn't the easiest berth in the world.

If I--" Walter broke off short. "Our train--I'll wager a dollar we'll miss it!"

"Creation! don't say that!" gasped Si; and then both took to their heels as if running the race of their lives.

CHAPTER VII

A TALK ABOUT SPANISH SAILORS

"The train is gone!"

It was Walter who gasped out the words, as he and his companion rushed upon the depot platform. In the distance they could see the end of the rear car just vanishing from view in a cloud of dust.

"Thet's so!" groaned Si, panting for breath, for they had done their best to reach the depot in time. "What's to be the next move?" And he looked anxiously at his companion.

"I'm sure I don't know," was Walter's slow answer. "I--I almost wish I hadn't seen the President--now."

"Can't we take a later train?"

"I don't know if the tickets will be good. Certainly we'll have no sleeping accommodations for to-night."

"Who cares for that, so long as we get to Fortress Monroe? Come on, let us see what can be done." And Si led the way to the ticket office.

The ticket-seller was busy, and it was several minutes before they could get to him. "Yes, there will be another train in an hour and a quarter,"

he said. "About your tickets, did you have stop-over privileges?"

"We did not--we didn't intend to stop over," answered Walter.

"Then I don't believe the conductor will accept them."

"Gee shoo!" groaned Si, dismally. "Do you mean to say we've got to pay the fare from here to our destination? Why, it will take all I've got with me, and maybe more."

"There ought to be some way of having our tickets fixed up," said Walter. "Can't we go to the main office and see about them?"

"Certainly, if you desire," rejoined the ticket seller, and turned to a number of others who were waiting impatiently to be served.

The main offices of the railroad company were not far distant, and hither they made their way. Inside, a young clerk learned what they wanted, and then took them to an inner apartment.

"Government fares, eh?" questioned the elderly gentleman to whom they had been conducted. "What was the reason you didn't catch your train?"

"We lingered to see President McKinley, who was out in his carriage,"

said Walter. "We got so interested we forgot the time until we were just about a minute late."

"Well, I can't blame you much for wanting to see the man you are fighting under," said the railroad official. "Let me see your tickets."

And, taking them, he wrote upon the back of each in blue pencil. "There you are, but you'll have to ride in an ordinary coach."

"We don't care if it is a freight," put in Si, earnestly. "We want to get there." And, after both had thanked the official for his kindness, they withdrew.

"We're all right so far," observed Walter, as "to kill time," they walked slowly down one of the broad avenues for which our Capitol city is famous. "The question is, what will Caleb Walton think of us when he finds us missing?"

"I hope he doesn't think we are trying to desert!" cried Walter, to whom this idea had not before occurred.

"Some fellows wouldn't be any too good to desert, Walter. Only last week a lot of fellows deserted on their way from one of the western states.

They got to Chicago, where they wanted to go, and that was the last seen of them. They were like tramps--willing to do anything for a free ride on the cars. But they ran the risk of being court-martialled for it."

"I think the fact that we had our tickets fixed up will go to show what our intentions were, Si. However, we have put our feet into it, and must take what comes."

After a walk of half an hour, both felt hungry and entered a modest-looking restaurant on a side street. They had just ordered a cheap meal each, when a newsboy entered with a bundle of afternoon newspapers.

"Have a paper, sir? Extra, sir; all about the Flying Squadron going to sail. Only one cent, sir."

"What's that?" questioned Walter. "Here, give me a paper." And he grasped the sheet eagerly, while Si also purchased one of another sort.

Soon both were devouring the "scare-heads" showing upon each.

THE FLYING SQUADRON READY TO SAIL!

Schley and His Warships May Leave Hampton Roads To-night!

The Spanish Fleet Said To Be On Its Way Westward!

Has It Sailed for Cuba or Will It Bombard Some City on Our Coast?

The Authorities Very Reticent, but a Strict Watch To Be Kept from Maine to Florida for the Appearance of the Enemy!

"By ginger, they're a-comin' over here, sure pop!" burst from the Yankee youth's lips. "Supposing they bombard New York? Why, I heard tell that they could lay out in the harbor and plant a sh.e.l.l right on the top of Trinity Church, or come up to Boston Harbor and knock the top off of the Bunker Hill monument!"

"Our ships and forts won't give them the chance to come so close, Si.

But what I'm thinking of is, supposing the warships sail before we can get on board?"

"Thet's so!" Si Doring heaved a long sigh. "Why didn't we wait some other time for to see the President? If we miss the ships, I don't know what we'll do. We'll be stranded."