By the greatest good fortune a Red Cross ship was about to start for the States with a number of the worst cases; and, just as she was sailing, I managed to get Van Kyp aboard.

She was so crowded that they weren't going to take him, until her skipper--as big-hearted a Yankee sailorman as ever trod a deck--said he would give up his own cabin rather than have a Rough Rider left behind to die." "What was his name ?" asked Ridge.
"Haven't an idea." "Do you know the name of the ship ?" "Yes, of course.

She is the _Gray Nun_, a converted yacht." "Rollo Van Kyp's own boat!" cried Ridge.
"You don't mean it ?" "I do." And then Ridge told all that he knew of his friend's splendid contribution to the service that was doing more than the government itself towards alleviating the sufferings of the American troops before Santiago.

When he finished, he said, "Of course the skipper recognized Van Kyp ?" "No, he didn't," replied the other--"at least, not then, for the poor chap's face was covered to protect it from the sun, and I didn't mention his name until after he had been taken aboard, when I gave it to the surgeon in charge.

At first I only described him as a Rough Rider wounded in recovering his troop flag, and the skipper said that was all he wanted to know about him." Besides his news of Rollo, the surgeon had brought from Siboney a number of letters recently arrived there for the Rough Riders, and one of these was handed to Ridge.