However, this failure was not the end. Towards evening, another
detachment renewed the assault, and the uproar commenced again. It
seems, that, during the whole day, there was no simultaneous attack by
all the detachments. Now, it was the infantry who charged,--with the
riflemen in reserve, probably to prevent a rout, in case the enemy
pursued a repulse; then, it was the riflemen, with the infantry in
reserve; and so alternating through three or four charges;--so that
there never could have been more than a very contemptible force facing
the enemy at one time.

As it grew late, the wagons began to jolt past, removing the wounded to
Rivas. Some were drunk and merry in spite of their wounds; and their
laughter and drunken sport made strange concert with the cries and
curses of the others. I remember one man going by on foot, with a small
cut on the brow, from which blood was flowing copiously. He said the
wound was a mere scratch,--too slight to have sent him out of the fight,
had not the blood run down into his eyes and blinded him, preventing his
aim. Yet this small affair brought his death shortly afterwards. The
surgeons at Rivas gave him no care,--not so much as to wash his wound,
or have him wash it; and the climate is so malignant to strangers, that
the smallest cut, with the best care, heals only after long hesitation.

At length night came on, and our men drew off,--foiled at every attempt,
having sustained great loss, and, apparently, made little impression on
the enemy. They lay on their arms, however, in the outskirts, expecting
to renew the attack during the night; and, to assist at this, a party of
rangers had orders to leave their horses in quarters, and march on foot
to join the others. Quitting our horses with regret, we walked to San
Jorge, where the foot lay, awaiting the hour of attack. We found them