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.