bullet--and a large form,
followed by half a dozen others, emerged from the grove, and, rushing
over the wall, plunged into the pond.

I heard a loud plashing in the water--the shouts of men, the clashing of
bayonets; and then saw the reptile roll over, pierced by a dozen wounds.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

DON COSME ROSALES.

"Yur safe, Cap'n!" It was Lincoln's voice. Around me stood a dozen of
the men, up to their waists. Little Jack, too, (his head and forage-cap
just appearing above the surface of the water), stood with his eighteen
inches of steel buried in the carcase of the dead reptile. I could not
help smiling at the ludicrous picture.

"Yes, safe," answered I, panting for breath; "safe--you came in good
time, though!"

"We heern yur shot, Cap'n," said Lincoln, "an' we guessed yur didn't
shoot without somethin' ter shoot for; so I tuk half a dozen files and
kim up."

"You acted right, sergeant; but where are the--"

I was looking towards the edge of the tank where I had last seen the
girls. They had disappeared.

"If yez mane the faymales," answered Chane, "they're _vamosed_ through
the threes. Be Saint Patrick, the black one's a thrump anyhow! She
looks for all the world like them bewtiful crayoles of Dimmerary."

Saying this, he turned suddenly round, and commenced driving his bayonet
furiously into the dead cayman, exclaiming between the thrusts:

"Och, ye divil! bad luck to yer ugly carcase! You're a nate-looking
baste to interfere with a pair of illigant craythers! Be the crass!
he's all shill, boys. Och, mother o' Moses! I can't find a saft spot
in him!"

We climbed out upon the parapet, and the soldiers commenced wiping their
wet guns.

Clayley appeared at this moment, filing round the pond at the head of
the detachment. As I explained the adventure to the lieutenant, he
laughed heartily.

"By Jove! it will never do for a despatch," said he; "one killed on the
side of the enemy, and on ours not a wound. There is one, however, who
may be reported `badly scared'."

"Who?" I asked.

"Why, who but the bold Blossom?"

"But where is he?"

"Heaven only knows! The last I saw of him, he was screening himself
behind an old ruin. I wouldn't think it strange if he was off to camp--
that is, if he believes he can find his way back again."

As Clayley said this, he burst into a loud yell of laughter.

It was with difficulty I could restrain myself; for, looking in the
direction i