"I never promised anything of the kind," declared Dick. "I had almost forgotten it, but I am glad I am reminded. All your friends ought to know about it, Steve. I am sure they would be pleased." "Hold on!" said Hudson, "if that yarn is going to be told, I prefer to tell it myself. There is no sting in a clean breast." "Go ahead then," said Stoughton. "I'll see that you tell it straight. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." "It was down at Bar Harbor, last summer," Hudson began. "I was spending two weeks with this man, Stoughton, who lives there in summer. Next to his place there was, er--there was--er----" "A girl," interjected Dick, putting in the spur. "Yes, there was, and an awfully pretty one, too," declared Hudson, defiantly. "If you will kindly refrain from interrupting, I can do this thing myself. What I was going to say was this: alongside of Dick's place, there was another place, and a most attractive one. There was a beautiful view from the piazza of this house----" "_On_ the piazza," corrected Stoughton. "Who is telling this story?" demanded Hudson. "Shut up and let me tell it my own way. I used to go over to look at this view every day," he continued; "so did this Yale man, Joe Sheffield. I used to know Joe at St. Mark's, and liked him very well, but it was rather a nuisance to see him at that house so much. Really he overdid it; why, I used to find him every time I went there. Finally I made up my mind that the duel was on, and I'd see who was the better man. Of course this was purely in a sporting spirit, you understand; I only felt it my duty to beat Yale, that was all." "Careful, careful," murmured Dick, warningly. "Remember,--the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."