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.
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