"There are nine of us here," said Thad, quietly, but with a firmness that thrilled the newcomer in the camp; "it's true that all but one of us are boys; but then we've got guns, and can use them too, if we have to. And let me tell you, Aleck, we're the kind of friends that stick. We've heard a lot about this hidden mine that your father discovered, and believe that it ought to belong to your mother, and no one else. This old rascal of a Kracker is a regular pirate, a land shark that ought to be tied up to a stake, and tarred and feathered, for the way he persecuted you, just because you refused to give away your secret, which means everything to your folks. And Aleck, we're going to stand by you through thick and thin! We've met up with you in about the queerest way ever heard of; and after getting you off that ledge up there, don't think we want to call it quits. You're a scout, a fellow scout in trouble; and we wouldn't deserve the name we bear if we didn't promise to back you up to the limit. How about it, boys?" "That's the talk!" declared Giraffe, with great vim. "He can count on us, every time," said Step Hen. And so it went the entire rounds of the little circle, every boy echoing the sentiments that had made Thad, as the patrol leader, promise the harassed lad all the assistance that lay in their power. After that the camp quieted down, and the boys went about their ordinary pursuits. Davy was fiddling with his little camera, the fever growing stronger in his veins with each passing day. Indeed, where some of his chums talked of shooting Rocky Mountain sheep, grizzlies, timber wolves, panthers and the like, the Jones boy could be heard expressing his opinion that "shooting" the same in their native haunts with a snapshot camera, was more to his taste. And there was Step Hen, as usual, loudly bemoaning the loss of something that he just felt sure he had had only five minutes before, but which was now gone as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed it up. "'Taint as though it was the first time, either," he was saying, in a grumbling tone, as of one deeply injured, while he eyed his chums suspiciously; "it's always _my_ stuff that's bein' so mysteriously moved about, so that I never know where to put my hand on the same. Now, I reckon more'n a few of you saw my service hat on my head just a little while ago; but tell me where it is now, will you? If one of you snatched it off in your slick way, and is just hiding the same, let me notify you right now it's a mean joke. Thad, can _you_ tell me where my hat is?" Having the question thus put directly at him, the patrol leader felt compelled to make a reply.