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Page 59
Ten minutes later he stood before that very building, having passed
through the American lines unquestioned, though stared at curiously by
those who noticed him at all. He wore the first Spanish uniform they
had ever seen, and, not recognizing it, they took him for a Cuban
officer, several of whom had already visited the camp. So the young
American, looking in vain for a familiar face among the thousand or so
of his busy countrymen, made his way to headquarters, where, for the
first time, a sentry halted him and demanded his business. While he
was thus detained an officer issued from the building, mounted a horse,
and was about to ride away when Ridge sprang forward, calling:
"General! General Lawton!"
The officer halted, looked keenly at the sun-browned young man in
Spanish uniform, and, almost without hesitation, said:
"You are Sergeant Norris of the Rough Riders, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ridge, saluting, and overjoyed at being recognized.
"I looked for you at Daiquiri," continued the General, "and hope you
can give good reason for not reporting there as ordered."
"I believe I can, sir."
"Then come in with me and give it to Major-General Wheeler, who is at
present in command."
Within half an hour the young scout had been complimented by both
Generals on the success of his recent undertaking, and had furnished
them with information of the utmost value concerning the obstacles to
be encountered between Siboney and Santiago. The first of these he
stated would be found at Las Guasimas, where the two trails from
Siboney to Sevilla on the Santiago road formed a junction some three
miles inland. A little later he had the honor of guiding General
Wheeler on a reconnoissance over one of these trails, and pointing out
the location of a strongly intrenched Spanish force, posted to oppose
the American advance.
When they returned to Siboney the sun had set, and Ridge, faint for the
want of food, was wondering where he should find a supper, when a
mighty cheering, mingled with wild cowboy yells, rose from a point
where the Daiquiri road entered the village.
"It sounds as though your irrepressible comrades had arrived," said the
little General, turning to his young guide with a quizzical smile,
"though I did not expect them before to-morrow. Perhaps you would like
to go and welcome them."
"Thank you, sir. Indeed I should," and in another moment Ridge was
hastening in the direction of the familiar sounds.
How his heart swelled with loving pride, as he sighted the red and
white guidons of the on-sweeping column; and when the one bearing the
magical letter "K" came into view, he could have wept for very joy.
But he didn't weep. There wasn't any time, for in another minute he
was among them, proclaiming his identity to incredulous ears.
When the Riders of Troop K were finally forced to acknowledge that he
was really their own sergeant whom they believed was left behind in
Tampa, all military discipline was for the moment flung to the winds.
They yelled and whooped and danced about him, slapping him on the back,
wringing his hands, and acting so like madmen, that the rest of the
command stared at them in blank amazement.
As for Rollo Van Kyp, he first hugged his recovered tent-mate into
breathlessness, and then invited the entire troop to take supper with
him at the Waldorf in celebration of the prodigal Sergeant's return.
To this invitation a hundred voices answered as one:
"Yes, we will! Yes, we will! Rollo in Cuba, yes, we will!"
CHAPTER XXIII
THE "TERRORS" IN BATTLE
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