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.