The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1899-04-26
ROUGH RIDERS AS ACTORS.


Just behind the big curtain thai
shuts off the east end of Madison
Square Garden is the most interesting
space from which to watch Buffalo
Bills Wild West show. The favorite
spot for the rough riders is a little
nook Just to the south Of the curtain,
where they can see all that's going on.
There they lounge and discuss their
own affairs and those of the show. In
all there are nearly score of them,
chosen at random from different troops
OF the regiment. Some of the number
didn't know each other when they fret
Joined the show, but they are all chums
now and call each other "Bud" with all
the freedom of camp life. Not yet has
the old instinct OF the organization
quite gone out of them. Perhaps it is
the constant re.enactment OF war scenes
and the smell of powder that keeps it
alive. A Sun reporter who stood be
hind the curtain before the cue for the
rough riders entrance, one afternoon
last week, heard some of them talking
about the mimic charge.
"Tbere's something in the firing"
said heavy built six-eooter, "that jog
giles a mans brains. haven't got
over getting kind of stirred up after
the guns get fairly popping, and wish
ing had ball cartridge in"
ut don't catch me that way" drawl
ed another. "Along with the smell o.
the powder l catch the stink of the Gu
ban Jungle and feel the long grass
cutc6in' at my legs. Then l get
thnkin' what thought down there, an
l don't like it,"
What's that, Buddy?" asked one of
his companions. Didn't know you
ever thought of anything down there
except grub"
"Well, l did, then" returned the
other. 81 used TO have a chill every
time thought of getting in that long
grass aud having the land crabs come
for me-"
70 'get ito ia the rough riders Gu
phemism for perforation by Mauser
bullet.
"1f they did this thing RICH up to
the mark" suggested a fair-haired
young fellow, they'd bring up some
land crabs and scatter 'em in the arena
just 10 go along with us. l swear,
there was whole outfit of 'em trailed
my troop all the time we was in Cuba"
Throw in few scorpions for good
MEASURE" suggested the little bow
legged fellow whose heels cling 80
tight under horse that nothing can
shake him off. "Ive got the mark of
one on me now"
"What catches me when we begin
shooting" said rough rider who was
nothing more than a boy, sis that l
always hear my Lieutenant's voice Ike
heard it down there"
"Did he holer when he got it?'
asked somebody rather contemptu-
ously.
"No, sir" was the quick response:
"He just gave one kind OF a gasp and
rolled over, and when / stopped to help
him he swore AZ me and told me to go
ahead and get Spaniard to make it
even"
"What a cinch the whole show
would have BEEN" said wiry little
fellow with swarthy skin, ''if we'd
had nice clear ground to travel over
like we have here. Dum'd if | don't
sweat like horse every time we come
on, Just rememberin' how sweated in
that blasted tapglin' grass"
"Here's Decker with the mail" an-
nounced the boyish-looking veteran,
and Immediately there was rush for
ward for letters, and chorus of eager
voices calling out their own names in
the hope of hearing the reply, Here's
one for you"
"Ths is like camp, too" remarked
one of the men, ''only there we didn't
get daily mail"
"We got mail just about as often
as we fought, didn't WEI" said anoth-
er jocularly. "And that's what we do
here"
There isn't much time, however,
after the mail comes, before the scene
of the Battle of San Juan. Out go the
rough riders along with number of
other employees in the same uniform,
and also squad of the colored cavalry
men, all singing ga Hot Time in the
Old Town" and marching to the rythm.
Shouts of welcome from the audience
greet them, for this is the favorite num-
Der of the programme, particularly
with the children, who make up the
greater part, aud far the most enthusi
astic, of the audience. There is some
skylarking, and then the camp goes to
rest, but after all the lights are low one
voice down in the arena rises in the
melody: my country, tits of thee"
Then, suddenly, the whole camp
breaks into harmony in the second
line of the national hymn and sings it
through. o. course, one knows that
nothing of the sort happened at San
Juan; that the men were too worn out
when it came time to rest to think OF
anything but sleep; yet, somehow, that
hymn, breaking the silence and rising
iiom The darkness of the mimic camp,
is the vital touch of realism that goes
right to the heart. The rest is pande-
monium-the quick stirring of the