The first land battle of the war had been fought and won.

Wood, Roosevelt, Young, Rough Riders, and regulars had covered themselves with glory, and performed a deed of heroism that will never be forgotten so long as the story of the American soldier is told.
"If we only had our horses we could catch every one of those chaps," said Rollo Van Kyp, as he sat in a window of the ruined building just captured by the Riders, happily swinging his legs and fanning himself with his hat.

The young millionaire's face was black with powder, covered with blood from the scratching of thorns, and streaked with trickling perspiration.

His shirt and trousers were in rags.
"It's a beastly shame we weren't allowed to bring them," he continued, "for this fighting on foot in the tropics is disgustingly hot work.
Now if I were in Teddy's place--" "Private Van Kyp," interrupted Sergeant Norris, sternly, "instead of criticising your superiors you had better go and wash your face, for your personal appearance is a disgrace to the troop.

But oh, Rollo!" he added, unable longer to maintain the assumed dignity under which he had tried to hide his exultation, "wasn't it a bully fight?
and aren't you glad we're here?
and don't you wish the home folks could see us at this very minute ?".