Jacob A. Riis (1849–1914). Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. 1904.
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| THERE was a thunder of hoofs on the road that descends the slope from Camp Wikoff to the Life-Saving Station, and a squad of horsemen swarmed over the hill. A stocky, strongly built man on a big horse was in the lead. In his worn uniform and gray army hat he suggested irresistibly, as he swept by, Sheridan on his wild ride to “Winchester, twenty miles away.” They were gone like the wind, leaping the muddy ford at the foot of the hill and galloping madly across the sands. My horse, that had been jogging along sedately enough till then, caught the spirit of the rush and made after them, hard as he could go. On the beach we caught up with them, riding in and out of the surf with shouts of delight, like so many centaurs at play. The |