“That’s how I remember it.”
“Same here, my notion is.”
“Both gray hats?” Curly cut in.
His uncle looked helplessly at the other man. “Can’t be sure of that. Luck’s was gray all right.”
“Cass wore a gray hat too, seems to me,” Mackenzie contributed, scratching his gray hair.
“Did Father hesitate at all about which one to take?”
“No-o. I don’t reckon he did. He had turned to ask me if I was coming—wasn’t looking at the hats at all.”
Curly looked at Kate and nodded. “I reckon we know how Cass got Mr. Cullison’s hat. It was left on the rack.”
“How do you mean?” his uncle asked.
“Don’t you see?” the girl explained, her eyes shining with excitement. “Father took the wrong hat. You know how absent-minded he is sometimes.”