ome 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

"Couldn't you let me begin that supper with a hardtack right now?"
pleaded our hungry young trooper, as soon as he could make himself
heard. "It's a day and a half since my last meal, which was only a
small ration of boiled rice, and it seems as though a hardtack at this
minute would do me more good than the promise of a hundred Waldorf
suppers."

The hunger that demanded even a despised hard-tack was at that time so
incredible to the well-fed Riders, that at first they could not believe
his request to be made in earnest. When, however, they saw the
eagerness with which he began to devour one of the iron-clad biscuits,
hesitatingly offered by Rollo Van Kyp, they were convinced that he was
indeed on the verge of starvation. They were also reminded of their
own keen appetites, for, amid the excitement of that day's landing and
their forced march from Daiquiri, they had eaten nothing since a
daylight breakfast. But each man carried three days' rations, and
camp-fires were quickly ablaze in every direction. From these
delicious odors of boiling coffee and frizzling bacon so stimulated
their hunger, that when, tin cup and plate in hand, they sat down to
that first meal on Cuban soil, they pronounced it