But tough. “He believes in physical fitness, and had ordered the officer corps of the Navy to make a ninety-mile horseback ride each week. And he said to me, ‘If you could see the protests against my order prescribing the riding test for the Navy, you would understand that a great coterie of both the Army and the Navy are only waiting for me to leave the White House to deluge the next President with applications to modify the order. But I know the order is not too severe; and if it is, I also want to know it. But if two naval officers, and you and I can take this ride of ninety miles in one day, we will never hear a word again in protest of the order. It will silence all critics, and the Army and the Navy itself will see to its perpetuation as a matter of esprit de corps.’ ”
Across the dining room from us, a large, portly man, dining alone, stood up at his table and began to sing in a fine loud baritone. The song was something about “I want what I want when I want it!” from a musical, Archie said, in which this man starred. And as he sang, most of the Rector’s patrons picked up glasses, knives, or whatever, and began banging the tabletops in unison with each “want.” “I WANT what I WANT when I WANT it!” sang the man, each “WANT” almost lost in the united pounding.
He finished and bowed, everyone applauding including waiters and members of the orchestra which had softly accompanied him. Then he sat down, resumed eating, the restaurant’s conversational buzz resumed, and Archie said, “And so on the day of the ride—or not the day, I should say, but in the middle of the night—the President came pounding at my door, we had breakfast, and it was just twenty minutes to four when the President, Admiral Rixey, Dr. Gregson, and I mounted our horses. The President rode Roswell and I had my faithful Larry. The two naval officers had their own mounts also. We started at a dogtrot down Pennsylvania Avenue and made the bridge in ten minutes. But oh, the wind was cold, Si! And everything frozen hard.
“The greater part of the roads we traveled over had been deeply furrowed and cut up since the last thaw and snow, and had frozen in this way. But we managed to reach Fairfax Courthouse by six-twenty. I had ordered two cavalry orderlies to leave replacement horses at Fairfax, Cub Run, and Buckland, but gave no explanation of whom they were for. Consequently the horses were the most ordinary cavalry mounts.
“At Fairfax we found the first detachment of new horses waiting for us in charge of a trooper from Fort Myer. It took only fifteen minutes to change horses, and without waiting a minute we started at a brisk trot toward Centerville. At Cub Run we found our second change of horses, and for the President and myself it was for the worse. The new horses were rough, slow, and mine was vicious.
“But the President was in the best of spirits, and joked Admiral Rixey about the Virginia roads, and wondered what the old veterans would say if their spirits could see him riding over Bull Run with these rebels, as he called us.”
“Is that Jack London?” said the Jotta Girl, gesturing with her chin at a table across the room, and we looked.
“I believe it is,” said Archie, and I thought so too. He had that look, that early-years-of-the-century face that you see in photos of the Yale football team of the times before they wore helmets; the longish hair, the turtleneck jerseys, a look that eventually vanished from the earth. It was Jack London all right. “And I believe the men with him are Richard Harding Davis and Gerald Montizambert.”
I didn’t say anything; I didn’t know who Richard Harding Davis was, though of course I knew, as who didn’t, who the sinister and notorious Gerald Montizambert was.
Arch said, “By the time we reached Gainesville we all felt that the trip would be a success. Each had measured his strength, and knew about what we could do, and when we reached Buckland at nine thirty-five we were in a fine humor.
“We changed our horses there, and started on our last lap to Warrenton. We had planned to reach the town by eleven, but it looked hopeless for a time, as part of the road was so furrowed and cut up that we could only make any time by keeping off the roads and riding up on the embankments. We took advantage of every good stretch, however, to gallop, and just as the town clock struck eleven we entered the main thoroughfare of the town. Several people recognized the President, and soon the news spread. They would not believe we had ridden from Washington. He made a short address to them, but the result was that he had to eat his lunch in ten minutes.
“We left Warrenton at twelve-fifteen and did not reach Buckland on our way back until one thirty-five. I had a horse which fought the bit the entire way. And once when I got off to look after the girth of the President’s saddle, I was fifteen minutes getting back on again. He would plunge and rear, and once he struck at Dr. Gregson and came near putting him out of business. Finally I made a flying leap for the saddle and made it. I was mighty glad to turn him over to the orderly at Buckland, I can tell you.
“Between Buckland and Cub Run our vitality was at its lowest. Admiral Rixey was on a fine animal of his own, and he had set the pace at a jog trot which was all right for him but it was hell on the President and myself, who were riding the roughest troop horses which Fort Myer could turn out. Finally as we reached Cub Run and started afresh, the President ordered Rixey to the rear and told me to set the pace. I set it by walking slowly when the roads were bad and galloping like mad when they were good. We made better time this way, although one is not supposed to; but the pace had the effect of resting us up when very tired, and when galloping to warm our blood and exhilarate our spirits.
“Just before we reached Centerville we met a blizzard, which came from the north in the shape of a blinding sleet storm, and this storm was continuous from this point to Washington. The wind was blowing a gale and the ice cut our faces so that I thought mine must certainly be bleeding. We kept up a fast gait to Fairfax, however, as every mile covered now was that much made certain, for it was beginning to look doubtful whether we would be able to make Washington on account of the heavy fall of sleet. When we reached Fairfax we got the horses on which we had begun the ride, and I never felt more relieved in my life than when the orderly told us that both Roswell and Larry were in good condition and not lame from the ride in the early morning. On any other horses I don’t think we would have made Washington without an accident, if indeed we had made it at all.
“We left Fairfax in the inky blackness of night, and walked practically the entire way to Falls Church. From Centerville the President had been going it blindly, for the ice would cake on his glasses so that he could see nothing ahead of him. He simply trusted to Roswell now. I took the lead and he came immediately behind me, followed by Gregson and Admiral Rixey.
“I dared not gallop, for we were too near our goal to run the risks of an accident. Once, when I began to trot, the President’s horse went into a ditch, but luckily recovered himself without injury to himself or his rider. At Falls Church we began to trot, for the roads were better, and strange to say, by the reflected lights of Washington nine miles away, we could keep fairly well in the roads. Enough snow had fallen with the sleet to make them fairly safe, so we trotted the entire way in to the Aqueduct Bridge. As we turned into the lighted approach, we saw the carriage from the White House which I had ordered to meet us before we left Fairfax. But when the question came up as to whether the asphalt streets were safe for the horses, the President settled it by saying, ‘By George, we will make the White House with our horses if we have to lead them,’ and we started across the bridge.