THE ROUGH RIDERS AT SAN ANTONIO
During the remainder of that night and all the following day the train
to which the "Terror" was attached sped westward through the rich
lowlands of southern Louisiana and across the prairies of Texas. It
crossed the tawny flood of the Mississippi on a huge railway ferry to
Algiers, and at New Iberia it passed a side-tracked train filled with
State troops bound for Baton Rouge. Early the next morning at Houston,
Texas, it drew up beside another train-load of soldiers on their way to
Austin. To the excited mind of our young would-be cavalryman it seemed
as though the whole country was under arms and hurrying towards the
scene of conflict. Was he not going in the wrong direction, after all?
And would not those other fellows get to Cuba ahead of him in such
force that there would be no Spaniards left for the Riders to fight?
This feeling was so increased upon reaching the end of the journey,
where he saw two San Antonio companies starting for the East, that he
gave expression to his fears, whereupon Van Kip responded, promptly:
"Don't you fret, old man. We'll get there in plenty of time. Teddy's
gone into this thing for blood, and he's got the inside track on
information, too. Fixed up a private ticker all of his own before he
left Washington, and when he gets ready to start he'll go straight to
the front without a side-track. Oh, I know him and his ways! for, as
I've said before, we're great chums, me and Teddy. I shouldn't wonder
if he'd be at the station to meet us."
To Rollo's disappointment, neither Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt nor any
one else was on hand to welcome the Riders' new recruits, but this was
philosophically explained by the young New-Yorker on the ground that he
had thoughtlessly neglected to telegraph their coming. Being thus left
to their own devices, and anxious to join their regiment as quickly as
possible, the three who were already enlisted engaged a carriage to
convey them to the fair-grounds, just beyond the city limits, where the
Riders were encamped, leaving Ridge to occupy the car in solitary state
until morning.
"You just stay here and make yourself cozy," said Rollo, "while we go
and get our bearings. I'll see Teddy and fix things all right for you,
so that you can come out and join us bright and early tomorrow. So
long. Robert, take good care of Mr. Norris, and see that he has
everything to make him comfortable."
This order was delivered to the colored steward of the car, and in
another minute the excited trio had rattled away, leaving Ridge to a
night of luxurious loneliness.
To occupy his time he took a brisk walk into the city, and reached the
Alamo Plaza before he knew where he was. Then, suddenly, he realized;
for, half-hidden by a great ugly wooden building, used as a
grocery-store, he discovered an antiquated, half-ruinous little
structure of stone and stucco that he instantly recognized, from having
seen it pictured over and over again. It was the world-renowned Alamo,
one of the most famous monuments to liberty in America; and, hastening
across the plaza, Ridge stood reverently before it, thrilled with the
memory of Crockett and Bowie, Travis and Bonham, who, more than half a
century before, together with their immediate band of heroes, here
yielded up their lives that Texas might be free.
Ridge was well read in the history of the Lone Star State, and now he
strove to picture to himself the glorious tragedy upon which those grim
walls had looked. As he thus stood, oblivious to his surroundings, he
was recalled to them by a voice close at hand, saying, as though in
soliloquy:
"What a shame that so sacred a monument should be degraded by the
vulgarity of its environment!"
"Is it not?" replied Ridge, turning towards the speaker. The latter
was a squarely built man, about forty years of age, with a face
expressive of intense determination, which at the moment was partially
hidden by a slouch hat pulled down over the forehead, and a pair of
spectacles. He was clad in brown canvas, very much as was Ridge
himself; but except for facings of blue on collar and sleeve be wore no
distinctive mark of rank. For a few minutes the two talked of the
Alamo and all that it represented. Then the stranger asked, abruptly,
"Do you belong to the Rough Riders?"
"No," replied Ridge, "but I hope to. I am going to make application to
join them to-morrow, or rather I believe a friend is making it for me
this evening. Are you one of them, sir?"
"Yes, though I have not yet joined. In fact, I have only just reached
San Antonio."
"So have I," said Ridge. "I came in on the Eastern train less than an
hour ago."
"Strange that I did not see you," remarked the other. "Were you in the
Pullman?"
"No, I was in a private car."
"I noticed that there was one, though I did not know to whom it
belonged. Is it yours?"
"Oh no!" laughed Ridge. "I am far too poor to own anything so
luxurious. It belongs to my friend, Mr. Roland Van Kyp, of New York."
"Sometimes called Rollo?"
"Yes; do you know him?"
"I have met him. Is he the one who is to use his influence in your
behalf?"
"Yes."
"Can you ride a horse?"
"I have ridden," rejoined Ridge, modestly.
"Where?"
"In many places. The last was Japan, where I won the silver hurdles of
the Yokohama gymkana."
"Indeed! And your name is--"
"Ridge Norris," replied the young man.
"I have heard the name, and am glad to know you, Mr. Norris. Now I
must bid you good-evening. Hope we shall meet again, and trust you may
be successful in joining our regiment."
With this the stranger walked rapidly away, leaving Ridge somewhat
puzzled by his manner, and wishing he had asked his name.
About eight o'clock the next morning, as Ridge, waited on by the
attentive Robert, was sitting down to the daintily appointed
breakfast-table of Rollo Van Kyp's car, the young owner himself burst
into the room.
"Hello, Norris!" he cried. "Just going to have lunch? Don't care if I
join you. Had breakfast hours ago, you know, and a prime one it was.
Scouse, slumgullion, hushpuppy, dope without milk, and all sorts of
things. I tell you life in camp is fine, and no mistake. Slept in a
dog-tent last night with a full-blooded Indian--Choctaw or something of
that kind, one of the best fellows I ever met. Couldn't catch on to
his name, but it doesn't make any difference, for all the boys call him
'Hully Gee'--'Hully' for short, you know.
"But such fun and such a rum crowd you never saw! Why, there are
cowboys, ranchers, prospectors, coppers, ex-sheriffs, sailors,
mine-owners, men from every college in the country, tennis champions,
football-players, rowing-men, polo-players, planters, African
explorers, big-game hunters, ex-revenue-officers, and Indian-fighters,
besides any number of others who have led the wildest kinds of life,
all chock-full of stories, and ready to fire 'em off at a touch of the
trigger. Teddy hasn't come yet, and so I haven't been able to do
anything for you; but you must trot right out, all the same, and join
our mess. Besides, I want you to pick out a horse for me, something
nice and quiet, 'cause I'm not a dead game rider, you know. Same time
he must be good to look at, sound, and fit in every respect. I've
already bought one this morning, a devilish pretty little mare, on Sile
Pine's say-so that she was gentle, but after a slight though very
trying experience, I'm afraid a bronco-buster's ideas of gentleness and
mine don't exactly agree."
"Why? Did she throw you?" asked Ridge.
"Well, she didn't exactly throw me. I was merely projected about a
thousand yards as though from a dynamite-gun, and then the brute tried
to chew me up. You see she's a Mexican--what Mark Twain would call a
'genuine Mexican plug'--and doesn't seem to sabe United States; for
when I began to reason with her she simply went wild. I left her
tearing through the camp like a steam-cyclone, and if we find anything
at all to show where it was located, it is more than I hope for. But
there's a new lot of prime-looking cattle just arrived, and they are
going like hot cakes; so come along quick and help me get something
rideable."
Half an hour later Ridge found himself in the first army camp he had
ever visited, amid a body of men the most heterogeneous but typically
American ever gathered together. Millionaire dudes and clubmen from
the great Eastern cities fraternized with the wildest representatives
of far Western life. Men of every calling and social position, all
wearing blue flannel shirts and slouch hats, were here mingled on terms
of perfect equality. They were drilling, shooting, skylarking, playing
cards, performing incredible feats on horseback, cooking, eating,
singing, yelling, and behaving in every respect like a lot of
irrepressible schoolboys out for a holiday. Here a red-headed Irish
corporal damned the awkwardness of a young Boston swell, fresh from
Harvard, who had been detailed as cook in a company kitchen; while,
close at hand, a New-Yorker of the bluest blood was washing dishes with
the deftness gained from long experience on a New Mexican sheep-ranch.
As Ridge and Rollo passed through one of the canvas-bordered streets of
this unique camp, the former suddenly leaped aside with an exclamation
of alarm. An unknown beast, fortunately chained, had made a spring at
him, with sharp claws barely missing his leg.
"You mustn't mind a little thing like that," laughed Rollo, with the
air of one to whom such incidents were of every-day occurrence. "It's
only 'Josephine,' a young mountain lion from Arizona, and our
regimental mascot. She's very playful."
"So it seems," replied Ridge, "and I suppose I shall learn to like her
if I join the regiment; but the introduction was a little startling."
A short distance beyond the camp was gathered a confused group of
officers, troopers, men in citizen's dress, some of whom were
swart-faced Mexicans, and horses. To this Rollo led the way; and, as
the new-comers drew near they saw that for a moment all eyes were
directed towards a man engaged in a fierce struggle with a horse. The
animal was a beautiful chestnut mare with slender limbs, glossy coat,
and superb form. Good as she was to look upon, she was just then
exhibiting the spirit of a wild-cat or anything else that is most
savage and untamable, and was attempting, with desperate struggles, to
throw and kill the man who rode her. He was our recent acquaintance,
Silas Pine, bronco-buster from the Bad Lands, who, with clinched teeth
and rigid features, was in full practice of his chosen profession.
All at once, no one could tell how, but with a furious effort the mare
shook off her hated burden, and, with a snort of triumph, dashed madly
away. The man was flung heavily to the ground, where he lay motionless.
"That's my horse," remarked Rollo, quietly, "and Sile undertook to
either break or kill her. Nice, gentle beast, isn't she? Hello,
you're in luck, for there's Roosevelt now. Oh, Teddy! I say, Teddy!"
Two officers on horseback were approaching the scene, and in one of
them Ridge recognized his chance acquaintance of the evening before.
Towards this individual Van Kyp was running.
All at once the second officer, who proved to be Colonel Leonard Wood
of the regular army, now commanding the Riders, turned to a sergeant
who stood near by, and said, sharply:
"Arrest that man and take him to the guard-house. We have had enough
of this 'Teddy' business, and I want it distinctly understood that
hereafter Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt is to receive the title of his
rank from every man in this command."
In another moment Rollo Van Kyp had been seized by the brawny sergeant,
lately a mounted policeman of New York city, and was being marched
protestingly away, leaving Ridge bewildered, friendless, and uncertain
what to do.