et outside,
and help explain to Peter, boys."

So they went straggling back to the exit, and passed outside, Paul
leaving the burning lamp in the vestibule as proof of his story.

Peter was an excitable German, who had been very good to the boys.
Indignant at what he thought to be an exhibition of base ingratitude on
their part, he had shaken William until the lad's teeth rattled.

"You vill wake up de goot beoples mit your rackets, hey?" the old sexton
was crying, "I knows apout how you does all de times, Villiam
Carberries, ain't it? Mebbe you t'ink it fun to ring dot pell like dot,
unt pring all de neighbors aroundt mit a rush. Hey! vat you poys say? He
didn't pull dot rope? Who did, den, tell me dot? Mebbe I didn't grab mit
him as he vas runnin' away! Hello! mister scout leader, how vas dot?"

Paul had come up while William was being shaken like a rat in the
clutches of a terrier.

"Say, Paul, tell him, for goodness sake," stammered the innocent victim,
as he squirmed in the clutches of the indignant sexton, "ask him to let
up on this rough house business. I'm just falling to pieces!"

"Wait a minute, Peter," the scout leader immediately called out,
"William was with the rest of us down in the basement at the time the
bell began to ring. We all started to try and catch the fellow who
pulled the rope; but I'm afraid he got away. He went through the church,
and out of an open window. You can see for yourself when you go inside,
that he tied a rope to trip any of us when we chased him."

Peter eased up his hold, and the agile William broke away, as if only
too glad to be able to catch his breath again.

"Yes, and Peter, we know who it was, too!" declared Nuthin, eagerly.

"That is, we think we do," broke in Paul, holding up his find. "This hat
dropped when he climbed up to the window. And a lot of us have seen it
before."

"Why, it belongs to Ward Kenwood!" exclaimed Jud Elderkin, as he bent
forward to take a better look at the captured headgear.

"How do you know?" asked Paul, for a purpose.

"Well, I've seen it on him lots of times," came the unhesitating reply.
"There may be a few hats like it in Stanhope, but they're scarce as
hen's teeth. Besides, I've got my private mark on that hat. Look inside,
and see if there isn't a circle and two cross bars, made with a pen on
the sweat band?"

Paul stepped over to the street light close by, and examined the inside
of the hat.

"You're right, Jud; here's th