g your
hat there; and then you kick up the greatest racket because you
suddenly notice it isn't on your head!"

Some of the other boys clapped their hands, while Step Hen looked
foolish at the well-merited rebuke.

"Mebbe you're right that time, Thad," he said, meekly, as, turning, he
strode from the briskly burning fire, heading toward the good spot
alongside the little stream, where they knelt to drink.

It was perhaps half a minute afterwards when he was heard to give a
screech that brought every scout instantly to his feet, jumping for
their guns, when they caught the meaning of his words:

"I've got him!" yelled Step Hen, at the top of his voice; "I'm holding
him, all right! But come and give me a hand, somebody, or he'll get
away! Injuns! Injuns!"

No wonder that excitement filled the camp of the Silver Fox Patrol!

CHAPTER VII.

STEP HEN MAKES A CAPTURE.

"Wow! it's a regular attack! Keep hold of your guns, boys, and make
every bullet count!" whooped the excited Giraffe.

"Don't anybody fire a single shot without orders!" roared Thad, who
could never tell what such a fly-up-the-creek as Giraffe was capable
of doing, once he got started.

The guide led the way toward the spot where Step Hen still continued
to shout and entreat. All of the boys had seen fit to arm themselves.
Even Smithy, who had no gun, had seized upon the camp hatchet, and
imagined himself looking exceedingly warlike as he trotted along in
the wake of his comrades, making violent passes in the air, as though
cutting down imaginary enemies by the score.

They thus came upon Step Hen; and sure enough he was clinging to the
back of an Indian, both arms being twisted desperately around the
latter's dusky neck in a way that threatened to choke the other. Step
Hen may never have read about the way the Old Man of the Sea clung to
Sinbad the Sailor, using both arms and legs to maintain his hold; but
Thad thought, when he had his first glimpse of the picture, that at
any rate the scout was a good sticker.

But then the Indian did not seem to be doing anything on his part to
ward off the attack; indeed, he was standing there, bearing his burden
with that stoical indifference peculiar to his race. There was no
smile on his sober face that Thad could see; but he imagined that the
Indian must surely appreciate the ridiculous nature of the situation.

"All right, Step Hen," Thad called out, when he could make himself
heard above the tr