In the mean while, Wiggins and the lovely Claribel, in utter ignorance of the melancholy catastrophe just related, had continued their walk until they entered a delightful grove on the outskirts of the town. Here was a beautiful fountain and rustic bench, around which hung a canopy of clustering vines. Claribel was about to seat herself on the bench when a hideous head was thrust out from among the vines. The lady uttered a faint scream and swooned in terror. Wiggins was dreadfully startled, and drawing back a cane with a leaden bullet enveloped in gutta-percha on its end, dealt a blow on the head of the apparition which would have cracked the skull of an ox. The monster fell back dead in the bushes. Wiggins now turned his attention to his fair companion. She was unconscious. He lifted her up, and, with the lovely Claribel in his arms, seated himself on the rustic bench. Her head rested against his bosom, and Wiggins bent down until his mouth accidentally came in contact with her ruby lips. It was an accident, and Wiggins did not intend to commit a trespass, but he could not help it. Wiggins kissed Claribel on her delicious little mouth. Now, who ever kissed a lovely young lady once without wanting to kiss her again? Wiggins kissed her again, and then several times in rapid succession. Just then Harry Vincent and Clarence Hastings, unperceived by Wiggins, entered the grove. They stood still in astonishment. An expression of horror was depicted on the countenance of Clarence. For a moment he stood as if rooted to the earth. Then pulling Harry by the arm, he said, in a hoarse whisper, "Come!" The young men walked on in silence for about five minutes, when Clarence said, "Harry, I will go with you to the Mexican war." CHAPTER XVI.