"And we know they are proud of you, Colonel. But we can't sell Red Cross supplies," answered Dr. Gardner. "Then, how can I get them? I must have proper food for my sick men," he said. "Just ask for them, Colonel," replied Dr. Gardner. "Oh," he said, his face suddenly lighting up with a bright smile; "then I do ask for them." "All right, Colonel; what is your list?" The list included malted milk, condensed milk, oatmeal, cornmeal, canned fruits, dried fruits, rice, tea, chocolate, and even prepared beefsteak and vegetables, and other things good for men who could not eat army rations. "Now, Colonel, when will you send for these supplies?" asked Dr. Gardner. "They will be ready any time." "Lend me a sack and I'll take them right along," he answered with characteristic decision. Mrs. Gardner at once looked up a sack, and when filled it must have held a good many pounds of supplies. Before we had recovered from our surprise, the incident was closed by the future President of the United States slinging the big sack over his shoulders, striding off, and out of sight through the jungle. The gruel still remained the staple, but malted milk, chocolate, rice, and tea had come in, and little by little various things were added by which our _menage_ quite resembled a hotel. The wounded were still being taken away by ambulance and wagon, assorted and picked over like fruit. Those who would bear transportation were taken away, the others left where they were. By the third day our patients seemed strong enough that we might risk giving them food as solid as rice, and the great kettles were filled with that, cooked soft, mixed with condensed and malted milk. The number of wounded grew less day by day, and better care could be taken of them. At Siboney, the great needs of the hour were met by the little band of surgeons and nurses, working night and day. The following is from a letter in the Times-Herald, now Record-Herald, of Chicago, by Miss Janet Jennings, who volunteered her service in the hospital. One gets from this simple, direct picture, a better appreciation of that heroism which lives after excitement, which survives the rush and shouting of assault, which is sustained without comradeship: "SIBONEY, _July 8, 1898_. "Above hospital tents Red Cross flags are flying, and here is the real life--the suffering and heroism. Everybody who can do even so little as carry a cup of water lends willing hands to help the wounded. Most of the wounded are from the first day's engagement, when the infantry was ordered to lead the attack on Santiago, instead of using the artillery. "And it all came at once--a quick blow--with little or no preparation to meet it. I mentioned in a former letter the lack of preparation on the part of the army to care for the sick. There was then almost nothing--no cots, bedding or proper food, for less than one hundred sick men.