he had nothing to back it with; while to the enemy it looked as
though his whole force was but the skirmish-line in advance of a
regiment. The Spaniards naturally could not believe that this thin
line which suddenly broke out of the bushes and from behind trees and
came cheering out into the hot sunlight was the entire fighting force
against it. They supposed the regiment was coming close on its
heels, and as Spanish troops hate being rushed as a cat hates water,
they fired a few parting volleys and broke and ran. The cheering had
the same invigorating effect on our own side as a cold shower; it was
what first told half the men where the other half were, and it made
every individual man feel better. As we knew it was only a bluff,
the first cheer was wavering, but the sound of our own voices was so
comforting that the second cheer was a howl of triumph.

As it was, the Spaniards thought the Rough Riders had already
disregarded all the rules of war.

"When we fired a volley," one of the prisoners said later, "instead
of falling back they came forward. That is not the way to fight, to
come closer at every volley." And so, when instead of retreating on
each volley, the Rough Riders rushed at them, cheering and filling
the hot air with wild cowboy yells, the dismayed enemy retreated upon
Santiago, where he announced he had been attacked by the entire
American army.

One of the residents of Santiago asked one of the soldiers if those
Americans fought well.

"WELL!" he replied, "they tried to catch us with their hands!"