“Don’t worry,” retorted Dick. “If you haven’t learned your lesson by this time you never will. You’d better own up about the shooting.” “Don’t know nothing about no shooting,” sullenly persisted the Maplewood boy. “Didn’t you hear the shot?” “No.” “Now you know he’s lying, Dick!” cried Buckhart. “Of course he heard it! I reckon he fired it himself!” “That’s a lie!” shouted Jack excitedly. “If any one says such a thing about me he lies!” “It was fired from that island,” said Merriwell, “and the bullet came pretty near me, too. Weren’t you on the island with Fernald?” “No.” “But we saw you leaving it.” “Never,” denied Cole. “We just paddled past the island and saw you coming after us.” “What made you try to get away?” Jack hesitated, and seemed to find it difficult to answer. After a time he muttered: “That’s none of your business! Perhaps we wanted to see if you could ketch us.” “Well, I certain judge you found out,” said Buckhart. “You came near drowning me!” grated Cole. “If that had happened you’d been to blame.” “You ought to be some ashamed to talk that fashion,” said the Texan; “but I don’t opine there’s anything like shame in you. Come on, Dick, we’ll go back and make out a complaint against him. We’ll have him arrested for firing that shot.” “Go ahead,” sneered Cole. “That’s all the good it’ll do you.” Deciding it was useless to waste further words on the fellow, Dick stepped into the canoe as Buckhart again swung the prow close to the shore. “You’ll have time to think it over while you’re walking round the shore to Maplewood,” said Merriwell. “Remember that Tom Fernald deserted you and left you to drown.” “And don’t forget,” suggested Buckhart, “that Dick Merriwell jumped in and pulled you out some.” The Texan then swung the canoe round and began paddling away. Cole remained watching them some minutes, but finally turned and plodded off, soon disappearing from view. Returning to the clubhouse, the boys told of their adventure, arousing the indignation of the listeners. “It was sheer carelessness for any one to be shooting in such a manner,” said William Drake. “It was a whole lot more than carelessness,” averred Buckhart. “I opine one of us was the target aimed at.” “Impossible!” exclaimed Drake. “I can’t believe such a thing. No, no, my boy; you must be mistaken. No one round here would do such a thing.” “I’m not disputing with you, sir,” retorted the Texan; “but I presume you will let me hold my own opinion on that point.” As the only change of clothing he had with him was a baseball suit, Dick soon got into that, while his wet garments were hung out to dry. Less than an hour after the adventure on the lake the boys were surprised at the appearance of Jack Cole at the clubhouse. Cole’s clothing still hung wet upon his limbs, and it seemed evident that he had come at once to the clubhouse after tramping round the shore of the lake. “I’d like to speak with you, Dick Merriwell,” he said.