Nor were they prepared any too quickly, for with earliest dawn the Spaniards opened a heavy fire, both artillery and rifle, on the American position.

In places the opposing lines were not three hundred yards apart, and across this narrow space the Spanish fire was poured with unremitting fury for fourteen consecutive hours.
The Americans only returned this fire by an occasional rifle-shot, to show that they were still on hand, and through the interminable hours of that blistering day they simply clung by sheer grit to the heights they had won.
On the previous day the Americans had lost over a thousand men killed or wounded, and during the present one-sided fight one hundred and seven more fell victims to Spanish bullets; but the trenches had been held, and that day's work settled forever the question of their retention.
In the mean time Lieutenant Norris, who had miraculously escaped unhurt from the very front of two fierce charges, was curious to know whose sword he was carrying; and so, after San Juan Heights had been safely won, he strolled back over the battle-field to try and discover its owner.

After a long search he found the little mound of earth over which he had stumbled, and was startled to see it was a recently made grave.

Beside it lay an officer in Rough Rider uniform, face down, and wearing an empty scabbard.

His, then, was the sword; but who was he?
A gentle turning of the still body revealed the placidly handsome features of the young New-Mexican, Arthur Navarro.