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