“Impossible!” exclaimed Dick. “All the same, I’ve got it into my head that way. I say, partner, let’s land on that island and see who did the shooting.” Immediately Dick dipped his paddle into the water and headed the canoe toward the island. Barely had they taken a stroke or two, before Merriwell saw another canoe move out from the opposite side of the island and swiftly glide away. There were two persons in it, and both were plying paddles. “There they go, Buckhart!” said Dick. “One of them fired that shot.” “Hike up, partner!” exclaimed the Texan. “Let’s get after the galoots good and lively.” Without delay the pursuit began. The occupants of the strange canoe glanced back and saw they were followed. Immediately they bent to their work, and this aroused both Brad and Dick. “They are a heap anxious to get away, pard,” breathed the Texan. “That looks a whole lot guilty.” “Do you know them?” asked Dick. “Haven’t taken a square squint at them yet.” “It’s Jack Cole in the stern,” Merriwell declared. “That varmint!” grated Brad. “Then it’s a plenty lucky the bullet missed you at all.” “I don’t like to think Jack Cole would deliberately do a thing like that,” said Dick. “I judge I know the other gentleman,” suddenly declared Brad. “If that bullet had come my way I’d bet all my loose collateral he fired at me.” Dick’s keen eyes surveyed Cole’s companion in the canoe. “Brad,” he said, “I believe that’s Tom Fernald.” “Hit him first crack out of the box,” said the Texan. “They’ll deny they fired at all.” “That’s what they will. It’s up to us to run them down and take a look into their canoe. If they have a gun with them, then they can do some explaining. Bend to it, partner. We’re gaining.” Both canoes were merrily flying now. Cole and his companion were doing their best, but Fernald’s skill with the paddle was not equal to that of the boy. Sometimes he missed a stroke and Cole was heard speaking sharply to him. The excitement of the race took hold of Brad and Dick. With the steadiness of clockwork they swung their paddles and bent to the task. Dip and lift! Dip and lift! On either side the smooth water seemed flying backward, while the canoe raised a slight ripple and left a broadening wake behind it. Cole and Fernald headed down the western shore of the lake, apparently looking for a good chance to run in and leave the canoe before their pursuers could come up. All along there the shore was rocky, and no favorable landing spot presented itself. “We’ve got them, Brad!” laughed Dick exultantly. The faces of the boys were flushed and their eyes gleaming. They felt the breeze rush past their ears. Before long Fernald began to show signs of weariness. Once more Cole was heard speaking to him, and this time it was plain the boy urged him to keep at it and do his best. “Wait some,” invited Buckhart. “We want to chat with you a little.” “You go to thunder!” cried Cole, once more glancing back.