"Whew!" whistled Ridge, softly, as he finished reading this letter. "If that isn't a budget of news! Spence Cuthbert here in Cuba nursing wounded soldiers! But it is just like the dear girl to do such a thing. If I had only known of it sooner, though, I might have found a chance to run down to Siboney and see her. Now it is too late, for the Nun has gone again. She will discover Rollo, though, and take care of him. Lucky fellow! Wish I was in his place! And Comly, too! He must have made that call and scraped an acquaintance. What cheek those navy chaps have, anyway! So Dodley reports me as a deserter, does he? And the dear old dad horsewhipped him. Oh, if I had only been there! It is a shame that I haven't managed to write home, and I'll do so this very minute."
In pursuance of this resolve, Ridge did write a long letter to his mother, in which he told of his great disappointment at not seeing Spence Cuthbert before she left Cuba, and sent it to Siboney to be forwarded at the first opportunity.
After that, other exciting events in connection with his duty occupied our young Lieutenant's attention; for at a meeting of Generals Shafter and Toral, under a great tree midway between the American and Spanish lines, the latter finally agreed to surrender the entire province of Santiago, with all the troops within its limits. On this occasion each General was accompanied by members of his staff, and to Ridge again fell the honor of acting as official interpreter. Thus for days he was kept so continually busy that he hardly found time for sleep. Then, on Sunday, the 17th of July, one week after the firing of the last shot, and two weeks after the destruction of Cervera's ships, at precisely noon, the red and yellow banner of Spain was lowered forever from over Santiago's municipal palace, and the glorious stars and stripes proudly flung to the breeze in its place. The impressive ceremony was witnessed by the Ninth Regiment of United States Infantry, two mounted troops of the Second Regular Cavalry, and by the brilliant staff who surrounded General Shafter. Besides these, Spanish officers and citizens of Santiago crowded every window, doorway, and portico of the cathedral, the San Carlos Club, the Venus restaurant, and other buildings facing the Plaza de Armas, and watched the proceedings in silence.
As the starry flag of the United States ran slowly to the top of the tall staff the Ninth Regiment band crashed forth the inspiring strains of "The Star-spangled Banner," and every American present, excepting, of course, the troops on duty, bared his head. At the same moment the thunder of distant artillery firing a national salute of twenty-one guns and exultant cheering from the trenches a mile beyond the city told that the glorious news had reached the waiting army.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, General Leonard Wood, formerly Colonel of the Rough Riders, was installed as Military Governor of the conquered city, and one of the first to congratulate him upon this new honor was the young Lieutenant of his old command, who had been permitted to do so much towards bringing the Santiago campaign to its happy conclusion. For Ridge Norris, in appreciation of his recent services, had been one of the very few guests invited to witness the change of flags.
Shortly after it was all over, as Ridge was slowly making his way back to camp, no longer upheld by excitement and utterly weary from his recent labors, he encountered a forlorn little group of natives, who aroused his instant sympathy. A young woman, gaunt and hollow-cheeked, with three children, trying to make her way back to the city, had sunk exhausted by the road-side. One of the children was a babe held tightly pressed to her bosom. Of the others, one was a small boy, who stood manfully by his mother's side; while a little girl, burning with fever, lay tossing and moaning on the ground.
As Ridge reached this group the woman cried, imploringly, "Help, Señor Americano! For love of the good God help me reach the city before my little ones perish!"
Ridge could understand and could talk to her in her own tongue. So in a few minutes he had learned her pitiful story. It was that of many another--a tale of starvation, sickness, death of her husband, and of homeless wandering for days. Now her one desire and hope was to return to her home in Santiago. Even before she had concluded her sad narration our young trooper had picked up the fever-stricken child, and, with the others following him, was retracing his steps towards the city. He did not leave them until they were safe in the wretched hovel they called home, and he had procured for them a supply of food. Then, followed by fervent blessings, he again started for the American lines.
