WHAT WAS UNDER THE HAT.
The flames crackled merrily, and the seven boys who lounged there in as comfortable attitudes as they could strike, were fully enjoying themselves. This sort of outdoor life seemed to appeal very strongly to all of them, though of course to some more than others.
It had always been a passion with Thad, for instance; and Allan could look back to scores of occasions when he sat by a camp-fire; because he was a Maine boy, and as such had spent considerable time in the piney woods of his native State, hunting, fishing, and living close to Nature's heart.
While they could not indulge in any of their songs, according to the regulations that had been put in force by the patrol leader, this did not prevent the boys from enjoying sundry good laughs when comical stories were told.
"Reckon Bob's been gone more'n an hour now," remarked Step Hen, who had been more thrilled by the story of the Government agent's sad fate than any of the others; because Step Hen had always been a great reader of tales of daring and adventure, and often pictured himself playing the rôle of a hero, with the admiring crowd cheering him to the echo, and wanting to carry him around on their shoulders.
"Yes, and pretty soon Allan will be going out to communicate with him, because, you know they arranged a series of signals by means of the lantern, and burning matches that Bob'll hold up. But don't talk too loud about that same matter, Step Hen; because, you understand, we're close by the road; and somebody might be coming along at the time. Remember that man we saw sitting on the rock with his gun between his knees? Well, I guess there are a considerable number of others just like him around these diggings; and by now they all know we're in the mountains, bent on some errand they can't understand."
Of course it was Thad himself who said all this. He knew the failing Step Hen had of shouting everything out loud; and Thad really believed they would be wise to carry on their conversation in tones that could not be heard very far away.
It turned out later that he was wiser than he dreamed, when he gave Step Hen this little hint.
They had started Bumpus telling how an angry bull had once chased him around a tree on his uncle's farm, and the boys were laughing at his comical description of the scene at the time when the pursuit was hottest, and he could have caught hold of the animal's tail had he wanted, when a dismal wail arose.
"Well, did you ever, if that ain't Step Hen putting up his regular howl!" exclaimed Giraffe, indignantly.
"And just when Bumpus here had got to the most exciting point in his yarn," added the disgusted Davy Jones.
"Whatever are you looking for now, you poor silly thing?" demanded the story-teller, who himself disliked very much to have his thrilling tale interrupted in this manner.
"I can't find my hat, and that's what?" declared the scout whose besetting sin was carelessness; "Had it on only a little while ago, but now it's sure gone up the flue."
Step Hen twisted his neck as he spoke, and looked up into the branches of the tree under which they had built their camp-fire; just as though he really suspected that a giant hand had been lowered from the foliage, to clutch his campaign hat from his head, and vanish with it.
Things that Step Hen owned were always in great demand among these mysterious spirits of the air; since nothing belonging to his chums seemed ever to disappear.
"Oh! sit down, and let Bumpus finish his story," growled Giraffe. "What's an old hat after all, to kick up such a row over it? Ten to one now you've stowed it away in one of your pockets. I've known you to do that more'n a few times."
"'Tain't so, because I've tried every pocket I've got, and never found a thing. P'raps, now, one of you fellers happened to see it lying around, and put it on, of course by mistake, thinkin' it his own. Anybody got two hats on?"
"You make me tired, sure you do, Step Hen," Giraffe continued. "We know what he is, boys, and that none of us will get any peace till his old hat turns up. Might as well get out, and find it for the poor baby. If I lost things as much as Step Hen does, I'd just get some twine, and tie everything on, good and tight. Then if I missed my hat all I'd have to do would be to pull in a certain string, and there she'd be, all slick and sound."
While he was speaking Giraffe arose to his feet, but not without making sundry wry faces; for he had been sitting a whole hour in a cramped position, and his muscles were moreover tired from the day's jaunt.
"Now watch me find your old hat before you can say Jack Robinson fifty times," he boasted, as he started to hustle about.
Step Hen seemed quite willing that he should carry out his word, for he himself made no further move looking to hunting for the missing head-gear.
Suddenly they heard Giraffe give a queer little grunt, that seemed to contain a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. He darted into the adjoining bushes.
"Here she is!" he called out, "and alyin' in the shadows, as cute as you please. Use your eyes next time, Step Hen, and p'raps—oh! great governor!"
Giraffe came jumping back into the circle of light cast by the camp-fire. He certainly did have a hat clutched in his hand, at which he was staring in the oddest way imaginable.
The others had gained their feet, drawn by some motive that possibly they themselves did not half understand; but it had seemed to Thad as though there was a note of sudden alarm in Giraffe's cry; and the others may have thought the same thing.
Step Hen, believing himself to be entitled to the recovery of his individual property, hustled forward, and deliberately took the hat from the hand of his comrade.
"Much obliged, Giraffe, on account of going to all that trouble for me," he said, sweetly, so as to impress the other, and cause him to repeat the favor at some future time. "But it's mighty queer how my hat ever got over in that clump of bushes. Give you my word for it, I ain't stepped that way since we struck here; afraid of snakes, you know, fellers. Goes to prove what I told you about something hoverin' around, that we just can't see, and which grabs things belongin' to me every—say, Giraffe, what sort of a joke are you playin' on me now; this ain't my hat!"
"I—know—it—ain't!" gasped the tall scout, who seemed to have some difficulty in regaining his breath.
"It's an old and worn-out thing in the bargain; and see here, it ain't even regulation campaign, because it's off color. There ain't no cord around it either; and my hat's got my badge fastened to it, to tell it from the rest when they get mixed. Where'd you get this old thing, anyhow, Giraffe?"
By now the other had recovered from the shock which he seemed to have received. He was even eager to tell his version of the affair, as his comrades clustered around him.
"I saw the hat when I told you I did," he began, in an awed voice; "and all the time I was aspeakin' I kept pushin' my way into the brush, intendin' to snatch up the same, and throw it out to Step Hen here. The reason I cut short was because, when I grabbed the hat by the rim, and gave a jerk, I felt a head under it!"
Bumpus immediately caught hold of the arm of the scoutmaster. It was not because he was afraid, though Bumpus had often been reckoned a bit timid; but the action appeared to inspire him with confidence. He knew that Thad would be equal to the emergency. And in times of stress it feels good to be in close touch with one who is going to save the day.
Thad understood without being told, what it all meant. Some spy had been secretly observing the movements of the scouts, hidden in that bunch of brushwood; and when his hat caught the eager eye of Giraffe, the latter had supposed of course that it was the missing head-gear.
They looked blankly at each other, Thad, Allan and the other five. Then, as if unconsciously, and by mutual consent, they turned their gaze in the direction of the thicket from which Step Hen had just emerged, bearing the tell-tale stranger hat in his hand.
Perhaps they expected to see some one rushing away in hot haste, so as not to be caught napping by these young fellows wearing the uniform in use by United States regulars.
But nothing seemed to be moving there; at least they caught no sound to indicate that the spy was in full flight at that moment.
Thad reached out, and took the hat from the trembling hand of Step Hen; who heaved a sigh of relief upon feeling it leave his clutch; as though a spell might have been broken by the act.
One look told the patrol leader that in all probability the hat belonged to a mountaineer. It was indeed old, and had an unusually wide brim. Being somewhat of the same color as those worn by the scouts, in the semi-darkness it was no wonder Giraffe had made the mistake he did, and reached out for it, under the belief that he had found the missing head-gear of the careless comrade.
Of course he realized his astonishing mistake the instant his fingers came in contact with a human head that had been held low down, in the expectation that the spying owner might remain undiscovered.
Thad knew that they were apt to see more of the one to whom that article belonged. Sometimes these mountaineers think a good deal of the hats they wear; at least Thad knew they clung to them a pretty long time, if the greasy appearance of some he had seen might be taken for an index to the affection they entertained for the felt that sheltered their heads from the summer sun, and the wintry blasts.
"Well, Giraffe, you certainly made a big mistake when you took this hat for the one our chum had lost," remarked Thad, in a loud, clear voice, which he hoped would reach the ears of the one in hiding, and bring him forth; "and you owe some sort of an apology to the owner."
"But how in the wide world c'n I tell whose hat it is, Thad?" expostulated the tall and lanky scout.
"Thet's all right, younker," said a gruff voice, "I'm the critter as owns thet ere hat; Phin Dady's my name. Reckon ye've heard o' me," and with the words a man stalked into the camp.
He was tall and straight, and carried a long repeating rifle. More than that, he had a small face, and piercing eyes like those of a badger. And every scout felt a thrill as he realized that he was face to face with the notorious moonshiner, Phin Dady, whom the whole United States Government had tried for years in vain to capture.