his
introduction.

"I have--that is, I belong to one; but, in the sense you mean, you must
not use the word company. That is a term common to 'doughboys,' who, as
you doubtless know, are merely uniformed pedestrians; but we of the
cavalry always speak of our immediate fighting coterie as a 'troop.'
Likewise the 'battalion' of the inconsequent doughboy has for our behoof
been supplanted by the more formidable word 'squadron,' to show that we
are _de jure_ as well as _de facto_ men of war. Sabe?"

"Then you are really in the cavalry?" asked Ridge, while laughing at this
nonsense.

"Yes, I really am, or rather I really shall be when I get there; for
though enlisted and sworn in, we haven't yet joined or been sworn at."

"What is your regiment?"

"You mean our 'command.' Why, didn't I tell you? 'Teddy's Terrors,'
Roosevelt's Rough Riders. First Volunteer Cavalry, U.S.A., Colonel
Leonard Wood commanding."

"The very one!" cried Ridge. "Why didn't I think of it before? How I
wish I could join it."

"And why not?"

"I thought there were so many applications that the ranks were more than
full."

"So there may be, but, like lots of other full things, there's always
room for one more, if he's of the right sort."

"Do you imagine I would stand the slightest chance of getting in?"

"I should say you would. With me ready to use my influence in your
behalf, and me and Teddy the chums we are, besides you being the rider
you are. Why the first question Teddy asks of an applicant is 'Can you
ride a horse?' And when you answer, 'Sir, I am the man who wrote--I mean
who won the silver hurdles at the last Yokohama gym.', he'll be so
anxious to have you in the regiment that he'd resign in your favor rather
than lose you. Oh, if I only had your backing do you suppose I'd be a
mere private Terror? No, siree, I'd be corporal or colonel or something
of that kind, sure as you're born. But come on, let's get aboard, for
there's the tinkle-bell a-tinkling."

"I haven't bought my ticket yet," remonstrated Ridge.

"You won't need one, son. We're travelling in my private car
'Terror'--used to be named 'Buster,' you know--and the lay-out is free to
all my friends."

Thus it happened that kindly Fate had interposed to guide our hero's
footsteps, but it was not until he found himself seated in the luxurious
smoking-room of Rollo Van Kyp's private railway carriage that it occurred
to him to inquire whither they were bound.