tion,
and canteens of water. At first Ridge had only his revolver, but
within five minutes he had snatched up the carbine of a man who fell
dead at his side, and was as well armed as the rest.

For an hour the Riders fought blindly, seeing no enemy, but pouring
their own volleys in the direction from which the steady streams of
Mauser bullets seemed to come. The smokeless powder used by the
Spaniards gave no trace of their location, while the sulphurous cloud
hanging over the Americans formed a perfect target for the Spanish fire.

Still the dark-blue line was steadily advanced, sometimes by quick
rushes, and again by a crawling on hands and knees through the high,
hot grass. Always over the heads of the troopers and among them
streamed a ceaseless hail of bullets from Mauser rifles and
machine-guns. Men fell with each minute, some not to rise again, some
only wounded; but the others never paused to note their fate. Those
who could must push on and get at the Spaniards. Those who were
helpless to advance must, for the present, be left to care for
themselves as best they might.

At length the ever-advancing line reached the edge of a grassy valley
set here and there with clumps of palms. To the left was a stone
building, formerly a distillery, now a Spanish fort, and directly in
front was an intrenched ridge. To this the Spaniards had been slowly
but surely driven, and now they occupied their strongest position.

At almost the same moment, and as though animated by a single thought,
Roosevelt on the extreme left and Wood on the right gave the order to
charge. With a yell the panting, smoke-begrimed Riders broke from
cover and sprang after their dauntless leaders. They charged by
rushes, running fifty feet, then dropping in the hot grass and firing;
then reload, rise, and run forward. On their right the regulars were
doing the same thing in the same manner with the precision of machines,
while the colored troops stormed the ridge with a steadiness and grim
determination that won for them undying fame, and answered forever the
question as to whether or not the negro is fitted to be a soldier.

The assault was unsupported by artillery; those making it had no
bayonets, and the Spanish fire, ripping, crackling, and blazing in
vivid sheets from block-house and rifle-pit, was doubling and trebling
in fury; but there was no hesitation on the part of the Americans, no
backward step.

The Spaniards could not unde