Ben expanded mightily in the presence of a new girl, while quiet Kit contented himself by slipping in a witty remark that was pointed enough to puncture Ben's gas bag of grand talk once in a while, to the great amusement of the army girl, who had never before met such fine, free, and easy, yet gentlemanly, fellows. Ted and Stella were riding together behind them. "Did you see him?" asked Stella at last, looking up at Ted. "See who?" asked Ted. "The man who shot at you, trying to murder you, and cast the blame on the Indians," she replied directly. "Oh, that was an accident," said Ted. "I saw a flash of a blue coat over where the shot came from, but it was probably an Indian with a blue shirt on." "And you didn't see who it was?" she asked again wonderingly. "No." "Don't you even suspect?" "Hadn't thought of it." "Suppose it was not an accident, who do you think would be most likely to try to shoot you from ambush, and make it appear an accident?" Ted thought a moment. Could it be possible that it was not an accident? For a few minutes after the ball had plowed its way through their little party he had thought perhaps it might have been sent at them accidentally, as the Indians were doing some pretty wild shooting, and then again he almost believed it to be an intentional shot. It could not have come closer to him from such a distance, and yet so narrowly missed his heart, unless it was intended for him. "Let me see," he mused. "Why, of course," he said, with a smile. "I didn't think of it before. It must have been that Indian, Running Bear, who was trying to get square for the punching I gave him." "Ted, you're as blind as a rat," said Stella. "Did you see the fellow who shot at me?" "I did. Got a good, square, sure-enough look." "Who was it?" For a moment Stella did not reply. "You'll hardly believe it," she answered, at last. "I'll believe you. I don't know that you ever told me anything that was not the truth." "But it seems so incredible, that I would hardly believe it if I had not seen it with my own eyes." "Well, out with it." "It was Lieutenant Barrows." "Stella! You can't mean it." Ted stopped his pony, and stood staring at the girl. "It was he who fired the shot. I am positive of it. I saw him do it, and was just about to cry out a warning when the bullet struck your pony and passed through your coat sleeve, and he dodged out of sight." "The hideous cur!" exclaimed Ted, who was the apostle of fair play, and who always felt bitterly when he saw another practice false, and especially an officer, who was supposed to uphold all the best standards for a gentleman. In fact, "an officer and a gentleman" were synonymous to him. "It seems incredible," he said, at last. "I didn't think he was much of a chap, he has not had much experience, and I thought he would grow out of his bad habits."