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