[Illustration]
MEANWHILE the war had closed and the soldiers were coming home—coming
home in crowded transports, in fever ships as well as in the fighting
ships; coming home white and weak from the blighting tropical
battle-fields.
An uproarious welcome greeted the home-coming heroes. Allan never forgot
the look of Broadway, crowded with cheering thousands, when the
returning volunteers of the Seventy-first started up the great
thoroughfare.
It was easier to photograph the crowds than the soldiers under these
circumstances, as Allan very soon found. The whole line of march was so
crowded that Allan, who, during the early part of the day, had the
company of Detective Dobbs, determined to strike across town and hurry
up to the armory with the hope of catching the scene as the regiment
reached its city home.
This proved more difficult than he had expected, for the crowd was
immense, the police could not control the lines, and the constant
pressure and shifting of the throngs greatly diminished Allan’s chances
of keeping near the front when the regiment should arrive. A saluting
gun shattered the western windows of the armory and filled the street
with smoke.
At the critical moment when the regiment reached the armory, Allan, who
had counted on the chance of holding his camera high enough to shoot
over the shoulders of men who stood in front of him, was pushed
violently to one side, and hemmed in by a standing group of men. The
crowd closed about him, but he held the camera high in sheer defiance,
though he caught nothing better than the jumble of heads and shoulders.
Allan had much better luck in the expedition he organized for visiting
the camp at Montauk Point, on the far end of Long Island, to which the
transports had been carrying the weary soldiers of many regiments. The
Santiago men were there; the Rough Riders and thousands of their
comrades. Big McConnell was there, and his mother found him the day
after he landed. Little McConnell wanted to go at the same time, and was
greatly disappointed at being left behind.
The next day Allan planned a trip for which he recruited Owen,
McConnell, Joe Bassett, Philip Manton, Mrs. Creigh, and Mr. and Mrs.
Austin. All save Allan and McConnell were to return the same day, and
Allan’s plan for staying over night was conditional on Big McConnell’s
valuable advice and assistance.
[Illustration:
“The look of Broadway.”
]
The day fixed for the expedition was one of those that frown before they
smile, and while it was frowning there were many misgivings among those
who assembled for the early train into New York.
“I wonder,” queried McConnell, “why the weather always tries to frighten
photographers like this. We all know it will clear up.” And it did.
When they reached the end of the railway journey the sun was cheering
the jaded troops, whitening the sand of the beach and the canvas of the
tents; glistening on the harness of the cavalry horses, on the muskets
of the guard, in the folds of the regimental flags.
The great Montauk camp opened before the visitors in an imposing way;
yet it seemed less of a show at the outset than the boys had expected.
What it all meant came to them later. The longer they stayed, the wider
and more populous it seemed to grow.
When they found the elder McConnell, he was on guard duty, and it was
two hours later before he could go about with them; but meanwhile he
called Terry, the big reporter, and Terry promised the boys he would
help them get some pictures of interest. To begin with, he carried them
off to the Rough Riders’ camp.
“But, mind you,” he said, “I want some prints. I can use them in a
magazine article I am getting up.”
The camera people were first introduced to “Teddy,” the eagle mascot of
the Rough Riders, who sat on the ridge-pole of a tent, and refused to
pose when he was asked. But they all trained their lenses on him, and,
in almost every instance, got a silhouette against the bright sky.
Allan made free to tell Terry that he would like to photograph Colonel
Roosevelt.
[Illustration:
“‘Teddy,’ the eagle mascot.”
]
“Well,” said Terry, “they are bothering these men to death, but I tell
you what I’ll do. I’ll go and speak to the Colonel about something I
must bother him about, and then you can improve your opportunity. You
will have a good position right where you are—and so will I have a good
position. I’d like a print of that, and I shall certainly put it in the
middle of my mantelpiece with the inscription, ‘Me and Roosevelt.’”
Terry deliberately carried out his plan. He strolled over to the
Colonel’s tent, met him just as the leader of the Rough Riders was
coming out, and stood there for several minutes in conversation with
Colonel Roosevelt, while the camera delegation revelled in the chances
afforded by their easy range.
They afterward found a group of Rough Riders who were not riding, and
under Terry’s direction were soon becoming acquainted with the situation
of the different divisions of the camp.
“You are quite a company yourselves,” said Terry to Mr. Austin, who,
with Mrs. Austin and Mrs. Creigh, had rejoined the boys as they were
crossing one of the roads.
[Illustration:
“The great Montauk camp.”
]
“Yes,” laughed Mr. Austin, “and this is Captain Kodak,” he added,
slapping Allan on the shoulder.
“Captain Kodak,” repeated Terry, who just then turned to a near-by group
of men.
Allan heard Terry say to one of the men in the group, “General, Captain
Kodak and his friends are within range. I warn you to preserve a
pleasant and statuesque appearance.”
When Allan looked toward the officer to whom Terry had spoken, he at
once recognized him by the many pictures he had seen as General Wheeler.
“Who is Captain Kodak?” asked General Wheeler.
“Oh, the General has been under camera fire before,” laughed one of the
other men in the group.
Allan was obliged to come forward and be introduced, and General Wheeler
shook hands with all of the Hazenfield delegation, and said he should
not run if they insisted upon firing at him. Several pictures were taken
during his short conversation with Mr. Austin.
When Big McConnell was at liberty, Allan had made arrangements with
Terry to send him prints for his magazine article. Percy gazed with
great pride on his big brother and hovered near him with admiring
affection. Allan was scarcely less admiring of the stalwart corporal,
who took the boys in tow and showed them some of the sights which they
had not yet seen.
The Corporal had considered various expedients for keeping the boys at
or near the camp over night. Upon consultation with Terry, it appeared
that Terry’s newspaper tent mate was to be away until the next day, and
it was arranged that Allan and Little McConnell were to sleep in this
newspaper tent with Terry. Little McConnell would rather have slept with
his brother in the soldier quarters, but soon decided that staying over
night in camp under any circumstances was a momentously romantic affair.
And so the evening came on, and with it all the interesting incidents of
life in a camp. A long line of the Rough Riders, taking their horses to
water, was visible from their tent. They heard the sunset gun and the
cry of the bugles, and saw the flags come down. There were many
trampings of feet in distant clouds of sand, faint shouts, and commands.
The stars came out, a cool breeze drew off the sea, and the boys fell
asleep.
The next day was a bustling day at the camp, an exciting and memorable
day, because it was the day on which the President came. Allan and
McConnell saw Mr. McKinley several times, sometimes at close quarters.
The President wore a straw hat. Allan thought he looked tired and
worried, though he had a pleasant, cheery word for all whom he met.
[Illustration:
“A group of the Rough Riders.”
]
[Illustration:
“Terry ... stood there in conversation with Colonel Roosevelt.”
]
[Illustration:
“The President wore a straw hat.”
]
When the President went into the hospital tents, Allan and McConnell for
the first time began to give close attention to these places, and began
to realize more truly than before what a tragic thing war can be to
those who are not hit by bullets. The thin, drawn faces of the sick
soldiers made the boys’ hearts heavy.
It was while the boys were standing in the shadow of one of the supply
tents that two men, carrying a stretcher, halted near them, and placing
the stretcher in the shadow, turned into the supply tent.
There was a movement on the stretcher, a very slight movement, and when
the boys looked definitely toward its occupant, they saw a face that
made their hearts leap with something like terror. At the same moment
the sunken eyes that stared at them seemed to start with a responsive
terror that made the ghastly face of their owner look doubly ghastly.
The man was too far gone to make a pronounced movement, but he indicated
in some way that the boys were to come nearer. Allan stepped close to
the stretcher.
“You know me!” whispered the man.
Allan nodded. He would have known the Ghost anywhere.
“It doesn’t matter now,” continued the man. “I’m done for. But you’ll
keep quiet, won’t you?”
Allan nodded again.
“It wouldn’t do you any good to give me away now. I’m sorry I did what I
did to you.”
Allan tried to say that he bore him no grudge at all.
“I was desperate. You understood that? And I did get away, got away and
made another start. But they were after me, and I finally went where I
thought they might let me alone.”
The man’s whisper grew very difficult to hear.
“I took care of myself for a little while. Yes, I was straight. And then
one day, just as the war came, I found that they had traced me. By good
luck I got a chance to enlist. That was how I dodged them again.” A
pitiful smile came over the man’s face. “And now I’m going to escape
them for good and all. No, no!” the man burst out as one of the men who
had been carrying the stretcher placed his hand on Allan’s shoulder.
“Wait a moment!”
“You mustn’t talk,” said the man, firmly.
[Illustration:
“‘Who is Captain Kodak?’ asked General Wheeler.”
]
“Another word—wait!” pleaded the sick man, his face flushing for the
moment. Then he whispered again to Allan. “This is the last now. You can
see that—they wouldn’t allow this if there was any chance for me. I led
a bad life, my boy. It was a failure. But I tried to be a good soldier.
Slip your hand under here, and say, ‘Good-by, Hiram Bain.’”
Allan found the man’s hot hand and repeated, huskily, “Good-by, Hiram
Bain.”
The standing soldier’s hand was on his shoulder again, and he rose up.
The Ghost’s eyes seemed to be pleading for another word. Allan bent
over.
“You haven’t any grudge against me?”
“No,” said Allan, “I haven’t. I want you to get well, and to keep
on—beginning over.”
The man shook his head, then nodded gratefully to Allan, as if the good
wish was all he wanted just then.
The two men now lifted the stretcher and moved away, Allan and McConnell
staring after them until they had disappeared into one of the hospital
tents.
This was the last Allan saw of the Ghost. On the following day the Ghost
passed away and was buried with other soldiers who had come home to die.
When Allan and McConnell were homeward bound on the evening train, their
heads full of the camp scenes, McConnell said, “I wish we hadn’t seen
the Ghost.”
“I’m not sorry,” said Allan. “I’m glad. I believe he was not so bad as
they thought he was, and he did the best he could at the end. I feel
better to know that he can’t be hunted any more.”
“Well,” admitted McConnell, “I’m glad of that part, too.”
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