nd which were not. The Eastern men broke
at the word, and ran for the cover they were directed to take like men
trying to get out of the rain, and fell panting on their faces, while the
Western trappers and hunters slipped and wriggled through the grass like
Indians; dodging from tree trunk to tree trunk, and from one bush to
another. They fell into line at the same time with the others, but while
doing so they had not once exposed themselves. Some of the escapes were
little short of miraculous. The man on my right, Champneys Marshall, of
Washington, had one bullet pass through his sleeve, and another pass
through his shirt, where it was pulled close to his spine. The holes
where the ball entered and went out again were clearly cut. Another
man's skin was slightly burned by three bullets in three distinct lines,
as though it had been touched for an instant by the lighted end of a
cigar. Greenway was shot through this shirt across the breast, and
Roosevelt was so close to one bullet, when it struck a tree, that it
filled his eyes and ears with tiny splinters. Major Brodie and
Lieutenant Thomas were both wounded within a few feet of Colonel Wood,
and his color-sergeant, Wright, who followed close at his heels, was
clipped three times in the head and neck, and four bullets passed through
the folds of the flag he carried. One trooper, Rowland, of Deming, was
shot through the lower ribs; he was ordered by Roosevelt to fall back to
the dressing station, but there Church told him there was nothing he
could do for him then, and directed him to sit down until he could be
taken to the hospital at Siboney. Rowland sat still for a short time,
and then remarked restlessly, "I don't seem to be doing much good here,"
and picking up his carbine, returned to the firing-line. There Roosevelt
found him.

"I thought I ordered you to the rear," he demanded.

"Yes, sir, you did," Rowland said, "but there didn't seem to be much
doing back there."

After the fight he was sent to Siboney with the rest of the wounded, but
two days later he appeared in camp. He had marched from Siboney, a
distance of six miles, and uphill all the way, carrying his carbine,
canteen, and cartridge-belt.

"I thought you were in hospital," Wood said. "I was," Rowland answered
sheepishly, "but I didn't seem to be doing any good there."

They gave him up as hopeless, and he continued his duties and went into
the fight of the San Juan hills with the ho