"I know it is mine, sir, because—well, every little mark about it is familiar, even to this little triangular tear. Besides, here are my initials inside—just as they are in this other cap I own—M. A. C., which stand for Mark Anthony Cummings."
The gentleman moved uneasily. It seemed as though he might be both surprised and annoyed because of this frank acceptance of the ownership of the cap.
"You're quite positive there can be no mistake—that some other boy may not have the same initials?" he asked.
"I don't know of a single one, do you, Elmer?" replied Mark, steadily.
"Not that I can recall just now; and besides, Mark, I ought to know that cap as well as you, and I'm ready to declare it's your property. I'm only wondering how it happens to be in the possession of Colonel Hitchins after you lost it," Elmer remarked, watching the face of the gentleman and wondering why he looked so downcast over such a little thing.
"I'm sorry to hear you say it belongs to you, Mark, because you are one of the last boys I'd dream of accusing of such a thing as robbery."
"Robbery!" gasped Mark, his face turning a trifle white with the shock.
"It is just that, for my premises were invaded last night by some bold thieves, who raided my choice peach trees, and almost cleaned them of the prize fruit that I would not have taken its weight in silver for. And I regret to say that this morning I found this self-same cap under those trees, where it would appear it had been accidentally dropped by one of the fruit thieves."