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Hats
of
Guayaquil
grass
--
erroneously
called
Panama
--
were
not
uncommon
.
Scores
of
Southerners
wore
them
,
in
Texas
as
elsewhere
.
But
he
knew
that
the
young
Irishman
was
accustomed
to
carry
a
Mexican
sombrero
--
a
very
different
kind
of
head-gear
.
It
was
possible
he
might
have
seen
fit
to
change
the
fashion
.
Still
,
as
Zeb
continued
to
gaze
upon
it
,
he
fancied
he
had
seen
that
hat
before
,
and
on
some
other
head
.
It
was
not
from
any
suspicion
of
its
being
honestly
in
possession
of
him
now
wearing
it
that
the
hunter
stooped
down
,
and
took
it
off
with
the
design
to
examine
it
.
His
object
was
simply
to
obtain
some
explanation
of
the
mystery
,
or
series
of
mysteries
,
hitherto
baffling
his
brain
.
On
looking
inside
the
hat
he
read
two
names
;
first
,
that
of
a
New
Orleans
hatter
,
whose
card
was
pasted
in
the
crown
;
and
then
,
in
writing
,
another
well
known
to
him
:
--
"
HENRY
POINDEXTER
.
"
The
cloak
now
came
under
his
notice
.
It
,
too
,
carried
marks
,
by
which
he
was
able
to
identify
it
as
belonging
to
the
same
owner
.
"
Dog-goned
kewrious
,
all
this
!
"
muttered
the
backwoodsman
,
as
he
stood
with
his
eyes
turned
upon
the
ground
,
and
apparently
buried
in
a
profound
reflection
.
"
Hats
,
heads
,
an
everythin
'
.
Hats
on
the
wrong
head
;
heads
i
'
the
wrong
place
!
By
the
'
tarnal
thur
's
somethin'
goed
astray
!
Ef
'
twa
'n
t
that
I
feel
a
putty
consid
'
able
smartin
'
whar
the
young
fellur
gin
me
a
lick
over
the
left
eye
,
I
mout
be
arter
believin
'
my
own
skull-case
wa
'n
t
any
longer
atween
my
shoulders
!
"
"
It
air
no
use
lookin
'
to
him
,
"
he
added
,
glancing
towards
Maurice
,
"
for
an
explanation
;
leastwise
till
he
's
slep
'
off
this
dullerium
thet
's
on
him
.
When
that
'll
be
,
ole
Nick
only
knows
.
"
Wal
,
"
he
continued
after
another
interval
spent
in
silent
reflection
,
"
It
wo
n't
do
no
good
our
stayin
'
hyur
.
