"What did, then?" demanded Bandy-legs, bent on getting some sort of solution to the puzzle.
"This old country must be hoaxed or bewitched, I guess," grumbled Steve. "Things just seem able to disappear without anybody taking 'em. First we had to lose our bully little pearl that just took my eye; and now even a ragged old cap has to walk off by itself."
"Oh, not quite so bad as that, I think, Steve." Max laughed as he said this. "When that cap went away it was through the agency of legs, according to my notion."
"Oh, I see now what Max means!" cried Bandy-legs; "he believes some gay old mother squirrel just took a notion to line her nest with that ragged cap, and made off with it."
"Rats!" exclaimed Steve; "Max don't think anything of the kind. See him examining the ground right now, will you? I reckon he thinks that same runt of a boy came back after his cap, and got it, too, in the bargain."
At that Max laughed aloud.
"Good guess, Steve, old chap. That's just what happened, and if you look where I point, all of you can see the same small footprint we found last night where the old cap lay."
"He's right, fellows, for here it is!" cried Steve.
They all had to crowd around for a look, although Max warned them to be careful, so that the impression of the boy's ragged shoe might not be trodden upon.
"Well, just to t-t-think what b-b-bright fellers we are," said Toby, in apparent disgust; "when even a r-r-runt of a boy c'n steal up and s-s-spy on us without a b-b-blessed one knowing it."