"By heaven!" cried the Squire wrathfully, when this single trophy was shown him, "I'll find the owner of that hat and punish him, if it takes every detective in the state to help me to do it." CHAPTER XVII. The morning following the exciting experiences of the raiders' attack and repulse at the New Pike gate, soon after the clearing away of the breakfast dishes, Sally, on the alert, caught sight of Squire Bixler's buggy coming over the hill, the loose side-curtains idly flapping to and fro in the fresh morning breeze like the wings of some bird of ill-omen. Indeed, she felt, on seeing the vehicle, that its very appearance presaged evil, if not to her, at least to one very dear to her. Usually she let her mother open the gate to the Squire if his coming was noticed in time for an avoidance, but this morning she made it convenient to be out on the platform, sweeping away industriously, when he drove up. "Good morning, Miss Sally! I suppose you are quite glad to find yourself alive, and with the toll-house roof still over you." "Yes," she answered promptly, "glad and grateful, too!" "What brings you out so early this morning?" she asked, smiling pleasantly on the Squire as she raised the gate which had so fortunately escaped the raider's axe the night previous. "Business," answered he with emphasis, "important business. Before the day is over, I hope to have a warrant served on the owner of that hat which was picked up last night. If I can get only one of the rascals caught and safely jailed, it will not be such a difficult matter to ferret out the rest of the gang." "Have you discovered anything more?" asked Sally, trying to disguise the anxiety in her tones as she made the inquiry. "Nothing definite, although there's one man among the guards who thinks he can identify the hat. I'm taking it to town now to show to the merchant that probably sold it." The girl's heart sank within her at the words. It would be little short of a miracle if the tell-tale names were not found and the hat's ownership revealed. While the Squire was speaking, Mrs. Brown came out on the platform. "Let me see that hat," she said. "It's likely I may know the wearer myself. I was so busy last night attendin' to George Scott's arm that I didn't do more than glance at the hat." The squire handed out a package done up in a piece of newspaper, which Mrs. Brown opened, and taking the hat held it up at arm's length, perched on her outspread fingers, viewing it critically, her head slightly askew. "I've seen that hat before," she said thoughtfully; "now who was a-wearin' it?" "There's likely a hundred such hats in the county," interposed Sally quickly. "I've seen a dozen or more myself." "No, you don't see so many of these light gray felts," avowed her mother, bringing the hat nearer. "Mebbe it's got a cost mark, or the maker's name; that would tell a body more concernin' it." She turned the hat upside down and looked carefully at the lining.