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Page 10
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.
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