“For some time,” answered Mr. Duncan, “it has been my desire to show you in some manner that there are those in Maplewood who sincerely regret what took place here on your first arrival in the town. We wished to show our friendly feeling toward you and your companions of the Fairhaven baseball team. Baseball properly played is a clean, manly, wholesome sport. I am sorry to say that baseball as conducted by one or two teams in this league has been anything but clean, manly, and wholesome. It was my conviction from the first that Fairhaven had a team to be proud of, both as gentlemen and as ball players. Never yet, on the ball field or elsewhere, have I heard anything from a Fairhaven player that could offend the most sensitive and particular person. I wish to add that, with the single exception of Benton Hammerswell, the original Maplewood Baseball Association regrets exceedingly that you were not all retained in Maplewood to represent this town in the league. You have made a gallant struggle against seemingly overwhelming odds, and should you succeed in winning the pennant for Fairhaven, be sure that many persons in Maplewood will feel intensely satisfied over such a result.” He was heartily applauded, and again Dick uttered a few words of thanks. The pretty waitresses smiled on the boys as they filed out of the room, and then the sliding door closed once more. After dinner some of the boys tried the canoes. Brad was anxious to try one, and induced Dick to accompany him. They were given the use of Henry Duncan’s own canoe, and in this they sped away over the smooth surface of the lake. In the bottom of the canoe lay a coil of small rope, which Buckhart observed, wondering for what purpose it was generally used. “Talk about flying!” laughed the Texan. “This is the next thing to it. I say, pard, did you hear them say anything about a fine echo that can be heard at the upper end of this lake? They say the hills yonder fling back the sounds and make them wonderfully distinct. Let’s paddle over there and give the echo a try-out. What do you say?” Dick readily agreed, and they headed toward the precipitous hills near the head of the lake. As they approached the locality for which they were heading, they passed close to a small and heavily wooded island. Suddenly Dick ducked involuntarily, for over his head he heard the hum of a bullet almost simultaneously with the crack of a rifle somewhere on the island. “That was a little too close!” he exclaimed. “Somebody is decidedly careless!” Buckhart blazed his indignation. “I should say so!” he exclaimed. “It must have been a right close call, partner.” “Don’t think he missed me by more than a foot, at most,” said Dick. Brad had paused with his paddle uplifted. A strange expression settled on his rugged face. “Look here, Dick,” he said, in a low tone, “I don’t more than half reckon that was accidental.” “What do you mean?” “Somehow I fancy a whole lot that the bullet was intended for you.”