WHAT WAS UNDER THE HAT.
THE flames crackled merrily, and the seven boys who lounged there in as
comfortable attitudes as they could strike, were fully enjoying
themselves. This sort of outdoor life seemed to appeal very strongly to
all of them, though of course to some more than others.
It had always been a passion with Thad, for instance; and Allan could
look back to scores of occasions when he sat by a camp-fire; because he
was a Maine boy, and as such had spent considerable time in the piney
woods of his native State, hunting, fishing, and living close to
Nature's heart.
While they could not indulge in any of their songs, according to the
regulations that had been put in force by the patrol leader, this did
not prevent the boys from enjoying sundry good laughs when comical
stories were told.
"Reckon Bob's been gone more'n an hour now," remarked Step Hen, who had
been more thrilled by the story of the Government agent's sad fate than
any of the others; because Step Hen had always been a great reader of
tales of daring and adventure, and often pictured himself playing the
role of a hero, with the admiring crowd cheering him to the echo, and
wanting to carry him around on their shoulders.
"Yes, and pretty soon Allan will be going out to communicate with him,
because, you know they arranged a series of signals by means of the
lantern, and burning matches that Bob'll hold up. But don't talk too
loud about that same matter, Step Hen; because, you understand, we're
close by the road; and somebody might be coming along at the time.
Remember that man we saw sitting on the rock with his gun between his
knees? Well, I guess there are a considerable number of others just like
him around these diggings; and by now they all know we're in the
mountains, bent on some errand they can't understand."
Of course it was Thad himself who said all this. He knew the failing
Step Hen had of shouting everything out loud; and Thad really believed
they would be wise to carry on their conversation in tones that could
not be heard very far away.
It turned out later that he was wiser than he dreamed, when he gave Step
Hen this little hint.
They had started Bumpus telling how an angry bull had once chased him
around a tree on his uncle's farm, and the boys were laughing at his
comical description of the scene at the time when the pursuit was
hottest, and he could have caught hold of the animal's tail had he
wanted, when a dismal wail arose.
"Well, did you ever, if that ain't Step Hen putting up his regular
howl!" exclaimed Giraffe, indignantly.
"And just when Bumpus here had got to the most exciting point in his
yarn," added the disgusted Davy Jones.
"Whatever are you looking for now, you poor silly thing?" demanded the
story-teller, who himself disliked very much to have his thrilling tale
interrupted in this manner.
"I can't find my hat, and that's what?" declared the scout whose
besetting sin was carelessness; "Had it on only a little while ago, but
now it's sure gone up the flue."
Step Hen twisted his neck as he spoke, and looked up into the branches
of the tree under which they had built their camp-fire; just as though
he really suspected that a giant hand had been lowered from the foliage,
to clutch his campaign hat from his head, and vanish with it.
Things that Step Hen owned were always in great demand among these
mysterious spirits of the air; since nothing belonging to his chums
seemed ever to disappear.
"Oh! sit down, and let Bumpus finish his story," growled Giraffe.
"What's an old hat after all, to kick up such a row over it? Ten to one
now you've stowed it away in one of your pockets. I've known you to do
that more'n a few times."
"'Tain't so, because I've tried every pocket I've got, and never found a
thing. P'raps, now, one of you fellers happened to see it lying around,
and put it on, of course by mistake, thinkin' it his own. Anybody got
two hats on?"
"You make me tired, sure you do, Step Hen," Giraffe continued. "We know
what he is, boys, and that none of us will get any peace till his old
hat turns up. Might as well get out, and find it for the poor baby. If I
lost things as much as Step Hen does, I'd just get some twine, and tie
everything on, good and tight. Then if I missed my hat all I'd have to
do would be to pull in a certain string, and there she'd be, all slick
and sound."
While he was speaking Giraffe arose to his feet, but not without making
sundry wry faces; for he had been sitting a whole hour in a cramped
position, and his muscles were moreover tired from the day's jaunt.
"Now watch me find your old hat before you can say Jack Robinson fifty
times," he boasted, as he started to hustle about.
Step Hen seemed quite willing that he should carry out his word, for he
himself made no further move looking to hunting for the missing
head-gear.
Suddenly they heard Giraffe give a queer little grunt, that seemed to
contain a mixture of satisfaction and disdain. He darted into the
adjoining bushes.
"Here she is!" he called out, "and alyin' in the shadows, as cute as you
please. Use your eyes next time, Step Hen, and p'raps--oh! great
governor!"
Giraffe came jumping back into the circle of light cast by the
camp-fire. He certainly did have a hat clutched in his hand, at which he
was staring in the oddest way imaginable.
The others had gained their feet, drawn by some motive that possibly
they themselves did not half understand; but it had seemed to Thad as
though there was a note of sudden alarm in Giraffe's cry; and the others
may have thought the same thing.
Step Hen, believing himself to be entitled to the recovery of his
individual property, hustled forward, and deliberately took the hat
from the hand of his comrade.
"Much obliged, Giraffe, on account of going to all that trouble for me,"
he said, sweetly, so as to impress the other, and cause him to repeat
the favor at some future time. "But it's mighty queer how my hat ever
got over in that clump of bushes. Give you my word for it, I ain't
stepped that way since we struck here; afraid of snakes, you know,
fellers. Goes to prove what I told you about _something_ hoverin'
around, that we just can't see, and which grabs things belongin' to me
every--say, Giraffe, what sort of a joke are you playin' on me now; this
ain't my hat!"
"I--know--it--ain't!" gasped the tall scout, who seemed to have some
difficulty in regaining his breath.
"It's an old and worn-out thing in the bargain; and see here, it ain't
even regulation campaign, because it's off color. There ain't no cord
around it either; and my hat's got my badge fastened to it, to tell it
from the rest when they get mixed. Where'd you get this old thing,
anyhow, Giraffe?"
By now the other had recovered from the shock which he seemed to have
received. He was even eager to tell his version of the affair, as his
comrades clustered around him.
"I saw the hat when I told you I did," he began, in an awed voice; "and
all the time I was aspeakin' I kept pushin' my way into the brush,
intendin' to snatch up the same, and throw it out to Step Hen here. The
reason I cut short was because, when I grabbed the hat by the rim, and
gave a jerk, _I felt a head under it_!"
Bumpus immediately caught hold of the arm of the scoutmaster. It was not
because he was afraid, though Bumpus had often been reckoned a bit
timid; but the action appeared to inspire him with confidence. He knew
that Thad would be equal to the emergency. And in times of stress it
feels good to be in close touch with one who is going to save the day.
Thad understood without being told, what it all meant. Some spy had been
secretly observing the movements of the scouts, hidden in that bunch of
brushwood; and when his hat caught the eager eye of Giraffe, the latter
had supposed of course that it was the missing head-gear.
They looked blankly at each other, Thad, Allan and the other five. Then,
as if unconsciously, and by mutual consent, they turned their gaze in
the direction of the thicket from which Step Hen had just emerged,
bearing the tell-tale stranger hat in his hand.
Perhaps they expected to see some one rushing away in hot haste, so as
not to be caught napping by these young fellows wearing the uniform in
use by United States regulars.
But nothing seemed to be moving there; at least they caught no sound to
indicate that the spy was in full flight at that moment.
Thad reached out, and took the hat from the trembling hand of Step Hen;
who heaved a sigh of relief upon feeling it leave his clutch; as though
a spell might have been broken by the act.
One look told the patrol leader that in all probability the hat belonged
to a mountaineer. It was indeed old, and had an unusually wide brim.
Being somewhat of the same color as those worn by the scouts, in the
semi-darkness it was no wonder Giraffe had made the mistake he did, and
reached out for it, under the belief that he had found the missing
head-gear of the careless comrade.
Of course he realized his astonishing mistake the instant his fingers
came in contact with a human head that had been held low down, in the
expectation that the spying owner might remain undiscovered.
Thad knew that they were apt to see more of the one to whom that article
belonged. Sometimes these mountaineers think a good deal of the hats
they wear; at least Thad knew they clung to them a pretty long time, if
the greasy appearance of some he had seen might be taken for an index to
the affection they entertained for the felt that sheltered their heads
from the summer sun, and the wintry blasts.
"Well, Giraffe, you certainly made a big mistake when you took this hat
for the one our chum had lost," remarked Thad, in a loud, clear voice,
which he hoped would reach the ears of the one in hiding, and bring him
forth; "and you owe some sort of an apology to the owner."
"But how in the wide world c'n I tell whose hat it is, Thad?"
expostulated the tall and lanky scout.
"Thet's all right, younker," said a gruff voice, "I'm the critter as
owns thet ere hat; Phin Dady's my name. Reckon ye've heard o' me," and
with the words a man stalked into the camp.
He was tall and straight, and carried a long repeating rifle. More than
that, he had a small face, and piercing eyes like those of a badger. And
every scout felt a thrill as he realized that he was face to face with
the notorious moonshiner, Phin Dady, whom the whole United States
Government had tried for years in vain to capture.