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I must confess, though, that I should like it better if he were an officer; for, as I have never known any private soldiers, I can't imagine what they are like. It must be very unpleasant, though, to have to associate with them all the time. I wish Ridge had told us more about that Mr. Van Kyp who owns the car.
A score of young fellows, all as grimy as Ridge, and all wearing the same uniform, watched this performance curiously, and now the latter began to present them. "This is First Sergeant Higgins, mother, of our troop, and Mr. Gridley, and Mr. Pine of North Dakota. Dulce, allow me to introduce my tentmate, Mr. Van Kyp."
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!"
Suddenly word was passed back for silence in the ranks. Then came "Attention!" and "Load carbines!" "Something must be up," whispered Rollo Van Kyp to Mark Gridley, and just then all eyes were directed inquiringly towards Ridge Norris, who was taking a place with his own troop.
"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."
So the bountiful supply of delicacies and comforts of every kind provided by Rollo Van Kyp were distributed among the sick and wounded in the Siboney hospitals, and many a fever-stricken patient owed his life to the devoted care of the "gray nuns," as the nurses brought by the yacht were generally called; but only Ridge Norris knew whose was the generous forethought that had provided all these things.
Norris greatly comforted by these kindly assurances, but she received further evidence that her boy was indeed an officer entitled to command and be obeyed when the troopers were ordered to re-enter the cars, for she heard him say: "Come, boys, tumble in lively! Now, Rollo, get a move on." Certainly an officer to whom even Captain Van Kyp yielded obedience must be of exalted rank.
Where is my boy?" cried the distracted mother, crowding her way to the very front rank of spectators. As she did so, Colonel Roosevelt passed close to her, and she clutched his arm. "Oh, sir, my boy! Where is my boy? Do not tell me he is dead!" "It is Mrs. Norris, Colonel," explained Rollo Van Kyp, pressing forward, "and she is disappointed at not seeing the Lieutenant."
Everybody knew Van Kyp, and everybody liked him; he was such a genial soul, ever ready to bother himself over some other fellow's trouble, but never intimating that he had any of his own; reckless, generous, happy-go-lucky, always getting into scrapes and out of them with equal facility.
But the last shot had stricken down brave, generous, light-hearted Rollo Van Kyp just as he had covered himself with glory and was within a hair's-breadth of safety; for, as Lieutenant Norris knelt anxiously beside his friend, the gallant young trooper lay as though dead, with blood streaming over his face.
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