The Battle Cry details from bookadda

This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1914. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... THE BATTLE CRY CHAPTER I AT that particular moment Juanita Holland could feel nothing but pride and love for the young man whose figure mingled with the other seven in a picture of spirited color. Against the verdant background of the polo field there were eight, but all save one seemed negligible. The afternoon sun was sloping in amber drifts across the space where the ponies kicked up the turf and the silks of the team colors snapped like pennants about the straining shoulders of the players. It caught and edged the new springtime greenery with a margin of soft yellow. It flashed brightly upon pongee helmets and blue silk caps and splashed against the reeking flanks of the ponies. Of the hats and gowns along the white flagstoned terrace of the Bryn Mawr clubhouse, it made a great bouquet of nodding flowers, a bouquet which it caressed. Juanita Holland sat near the front and as some of the other girls smiled knowingly at her parted lips and fixed eyes, their glances traveled to an engagement ring and the fashion in which the slender hand it adorned clenched itself in the tensity of her interest. The board announced a score of four to three and a l quarter in favor of the Reds and the man whom her eyes followed played Number Two for the Blues. In the fraction of another minute the referee's whistle would end the last period and the game would be over. So when, from a tangled scrimmage and a stamping confusion in midfield, the girl saw the comet-like outshoot of a willow ball followed, close as a shadow follows, by the shapes of a pony and a man she knew, it is not wonderful that her blue eyes flashed into sparkle and the tender curves of her lips tightened, then parted. There was now a chance; a small, remote embryo of a chance for turning defeat into v...