Th' Kid an' Salvation has jammed it in th' corral fence an' Waffles has to stand fer it." "Let's put it in th' grub wagon an see him cuss cookie," suggested Hopalong.
"Shore," indorsed Johnny; Cookie'll feed him bum grub for a week to get square.
Hopalong and Johnny ambled over to the corral and after some trouble located the missing sombrero, which they carried to the grub wagon and hid in the flour barrel.

Then they went over by the excited owner and dropped a few remarks about how strange the cook was acting and how he was watching Frenchy.
Frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over to the wagon, where he and the cook spent some time in mutual recrimination.

Hopalong nosed around and finally dug up the hat, white as new-fallen snow.
"Here's a hat--found it in th' dough barrel," he announced, handing it over to Frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed stupefaction.
"Yu pie-makin' pirate! Yu didn't know where my lid was, did yu! Yu cross-eyed lump of hypocrisy!" yelled Frenchy, dusting off the flour with one full-armed swing on the cook's face, driving it into that unfortunate's nose and eyes and mouth.

"Yu white-washed Chink, yu--rub yore face with water an' yu've got pancakes." "Hey! What you doin'!" yelled the cook, kicking the spot where he had last seen Frenchy.

"Don't yu know better'n that!" "Yu live close to yoreself or I'll throw yu so high th' sun'll duck," replied Frenchy, a smile illuminating his face.
"Hey, cookie," remarked Hopalong confidentially, "I know who put up this joke on yu.