At the same time they were not happy, for Cervera's ships had escaped.
What could the Yankee sailors have been about to let such a thing happen?
What a disgrace it was, and how the whole world would jeer! Even Santiago seemed hardly worth capturing now.
All at once a sound of shouting was borne faintly to their ears from the distant rear.

What had happened?
Had they been outflanked by the Spaniards and attacked from that direction?
No, for a band was playing on El Poso Hill, and the sound of shouting was advancing, like a roar of the sea.

No one looked towards Santiago now, but all eyes, turned to the rear, were fixed on the point where the Sevilla road left the timber.

At this place they gazed in eager but silent anticipation.
Suddenly a horseman emerged from it and dashed at full speed across the valley, waving his hat and yelling as he came.
Up the slope of San Juan Hill he charged and through the terraced camps, that broke into a jubilant roar as he reached them.

But he did not pause until he had gained the very trenches, where among the wondering Rough Riders he slipped wearily from his foam-flecked horse, shouting huskily but exultantly as he did so: "Sampson has destroyed the Spanish fleet! Not a ship escaped! I know, for I saw the whole fight!" "Hurrah!" "Hooray!" "Whoop-ee!" "Wow, wow, wow!" howled the Riders, as in their wild jubilation they danced, hugged each other, and flung things in the air.