Forward, March | Page 9

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.