IN THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN

July 1-2, 1898, Colonel Roosevelt leads the Rough Riders at San Juan. When orders fail to come, he goes into the fight on his own responsibility. — Ever in the van, he inspires all around him, and gathers under his command fragments of half a dozen other regiments. Careless of danger and in many narrow escapes. Buying rations for his hungry soldiers and ministering to the sick.

AFTER the engagement at Las Guasimas, the Rough Riders camped on the ground which they had helped to win from the Spaniards.

For several days they awaited orders to go forward toward Santiago. The commissary service was wretched. The transport ships lay at anchor, burdened with provisions; but they were unloaded and the supplies sent to the front so slowly that the men in the trenches were on one-third allowance. The officers were privileged to have more and better things to eat, even delicacies. Colonel Roosevelt would touch none of them. He would take no different shelter and no different food from what the men had. It came to be the rule among

the officers of the regiment to accept nothing that the privates could not have.

Every influence in his power was exerted by the lieutenant-colonel to get the best for all the members of his command. He spent his money liberally, and the money which wealthy friends from New York had given him, in the purchase of food for his men. All the dainties obtainable went straight to the sick and the wounded in the hospital, where Colonel Roosevelt was a constant and cheering

visitor.

"Don't get up, boys," he would say, as the poor fellows struggled to greet him. "Lie still. Ah, Jim, how's your leg feeling to-day? Getting better? That's good. You'll soon be all right now. Billy, I hope your back doesn't trouble you so much to-day.” Thus he went among them as if they were members of his own family, calling them by their names, remembering the ailment of each and seeing to the needs of all.

When, at last, orders came for the regiment to move, Wood had left the Rough Riders to take command of a brigade, and Roosevelt took his place. Forward they tramped in the muddy track, through

the hot jungle. Night fell, but they did not halt until eight o'clock. All slept on their arms. In the night, Colonel Roosevelt made the round of the sentries to see for himself that they were properly guarding their sleeping comrades.

At six o'clock of a lovely morning, the sky unclouded, the lofty mountains that hemmed in Santiago echoed with the boom of the Spanish cannon on El Caney. The Rough Riders were stationed in a farm-yard, where an American battery had wheeled into position directly in front of them. The Spaniards had smokeless powder, but the cannon of the Americans did not possess such a military luxury.

When, therefore, the battery replied to the Spanish fire, the cloud of smoke which rose from its guns formed a perfect target for the enemy. The Rough Riders were eating breakfast at the time, and in their enthusiasm they jumped up and cheered wildly. Then, after twenty minutes, came the well-aimed response of the Spanish gunners. The cheering troopers were stilled as they saw the black ball coming toward them, hissing and howling as it drew nearer, and finally exploding among them. One of the fragments dropped on Colonel Roose

velt's wrist, hardly breaking the skin, but raising a lump. Four of five of his men behind him were wounded at the same time.

Again, while the Rough Riders were fording a river, under the shots of the enemy, the American war balloon dropped near them, and thus attracted a heavy fire. They crossed the stream in such haste as they could, and sought shelter as they crouched under the bank, lay in a sunken road, or hid in the tall grass. Bullets swept over them in sheets. The colonel sent messenger after messenger for orders to advance before the welcome command came. Then he sprang upon his horse and waved his men onward, taking the customary place of the commander, in the rear. He urged the regiment so earnestly, however, that he soon found that he had worked his way through it to the head of his men.

According to his orders, he should have marched his men across a place entirely exposed to the enemy. He obeyed with discretion, however, and employed the strategy of common-sense by avoiding one of the worst death-traps of the day. He went where he had been told to go, but he went in his own