'We'll rush him from three sides at once. One of us is sure to get him that way,' whispered Reggie.
George nodded, and crept away to take up his position, while Reggie slipped off to find Harry Maurice and place him for his share in the attack. The signal for the charge was the cry of the patrol.
When all was ready, Reggie gave one howl, then the three scouts darted from their hiding-places, and bore down at full-speed on the little covert where Chippy's hat was still to be seen through a thin place in the blackthorn-bush.
But they burst into the covert, to find it quite empty. No Chippy was there, only his old hat cleverly arranged on a stick as if he were crouching behind the bush. And while they stared at the hat and each other, there came a swift fusillade of balls from an ambush a dozen yards away. Chippy had three balls, and every one hit its man.
'Got yer,' grunted Chippy in a tone of deep satisfaction, and crawled out of a patch of tall dried bracken, and came forward to fetch his hat.
'Well, by Jingo! That's an artful touch,' cried Reggie Parr. 'Why, I saw you. I saw your face plainly.'
'I know yer did,' replied Chippy, with a cheerful grin. 'I meant yer to. As soon as I wor sure yer'd seen my face, I rigged up th' ole 'at an' 'ooked it.'
At the sound of their voices in conversation the other five scouts came racing towards them. Dick Elliott was leading.
'How goes it?' cried Dick. 'Have you bagged him?'
'Not a bit of it,' replied George Lee. 'It's the other way about. He's bagged us.'