"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.