"It's--it's my hat," explained Galusha. "If you will be kind enough to
pick it up before--Oh, DEAR me! There it GOES! Stop it, stop it!"

Another gust had set the hat rolling again. Captain Jethro made a grab
at it but his attempt only lifted it higher into the air, where the wind
caught it underneath and sent it soaring.

"Oh, dear!" piped the exasperated Galusha, and ran after it.

"Who in tunket IS he?" demanded Jethro.

Mr. Pulcifer gazed at the thin little figure hopping after the hat. The
light of recognition dawned in his face.

"_I_ know who he is!" he exclaimed. "I fetched him over t'other night
in my car. But what in blazes is he doin' here NOW?... Hi, look out,
Mister! Don't let it blow that way. If you do you'll--Head it OFF!"

The hat was following an air line due east. Galusha was following a
terrestrial route in the same direction. Now Raish followed Galusha and
after him rolled Captain Jethro Hallett. As they say in hunting stories,
the chase was on.

It was not a long chase, of course. It ended unexpectedly--unexpectedly
for Galusha, that is--at a point where a spur of the pine grove jutted
out upon the crest of a little hill beyond the eastern border of the
cemetery. The hat rolled, bounced, dipped and soared up the hill and
just clear of the branches of the endmost pine. Then it disappeared from
sight. Its owner breathlessly panted after it. He reached the crest of
the little hill and stopped short--stopped for the very good reason that