Rob drew in the hat and examined it.
"Phew!" gasped Tubby. "That's a fine way to ventilate a fellow's lid."
A bullet had bored a hole right through the soft gray crown.
"Guess that's Indians, all right," said Harry; "nobody else would be able to shoot like that."
"It is Indians," announced Rob. "I saw one dodge behind some brush when I looked out."
"Well, what are we going to do?" gasped Charley, the younger of the Price brothers, a lad of about fourteen. His face grew long, and he began to whimper.
"Hey, hush up, there," admonished Tubby. "Boy Scouts don't cry when they get in a difficulty; they sit down and try to figure some way out of it."
"And, in this case, that is easy," said Rob.
"Huh?"
"I said it is easy. All we've got to do is to go back again."