his remaining four companies in a straight line and revolving them around the enemy’s “end.”  It was in no way an easy thing to do.  The men were at times wholly hidden from each other, and from him; probably at no one time did he see more than two of his troops together.  It was only by the firing that he could tell where his men lay, and that they were always advancing.

The advances were made in quick, desperate rushes—sometimes the ground gained was no more than a man covers in sliding for a base.  At other times half a troop would rise and race forward and then burrow deep in the hot grass and fire.  On this side of the line there was an occasional glimpse of the enemy.  But for a great part of the time the men shot at the places from where the enemy’s fire seemed to come, aiming low and answering in steady volleys.  The fire discipline was excellent.  The prophets of evil of the Tampa Bay Hotel had foretold that the cowboys would shoot as they chose, and, in the field, would act independently of their officers.  As it turned out, the cowboys were the very men who waited most patiently for the officers to give the word of command.  At all times the movement was without rest, breathless and fierce, like a cane-rush, or a street fight.  After the first three minutes every man had stripped as though for a wrestling match, throwing off all his impedimenta but his cartridge-belt and canteen.  Even then the sun handicapped their strength cruelly.  The enemy was hidden in the shade of the jungle, while they, for every thicket they gained, had to fight in the open, crawling through grass which was as hot as a steam bath, and with their flesh and clothing torn by thorns and the sword-like blade of the Spanish “bayonet.”  The glare of the sun was full in their eyes and as fierce as a lime-light.

When G Troop passed on across the trail to the left