d us to come with you!" George cut in.

"When I tried to cross-examine him," laughed Sandy, "he said he was
afraid we wouldn't go if he told us what sort of a game we were
mixing in."

"Well," Will went on in a moment, "he told me to tell you after we
got into camp on Moose river."

"Go on and tell us, then," chuckled Tommy.

"I don't believe it's any great mystery!" Sandy interrupted.

"We came here," Will said, speaking seriously, "to find the Little
Brass God. Odd sort of a quest, that, eh?"

"What's the Little Brass God?" demanded Sandy.

"Did you think it was a load of hay?" asked Tommy. "The Little
Brass God is the Little Brass God. Didn't you know that?"

"What does any one want of a Little Brass God?" asked George.

"The Little Brass God," Will explained, "is believed to be
valuable, chiefly for what is contained in his belly."

"So this is a stuffed god?" cried Tommy.

"Has he eaten something he can't digest?" cut in Sandy.

"That just explains it!" Will exclaimed. "He has eaten something
he can't assimilate, and we've been sent up here to relieve him of
it!"

"How did the Little Brass God ever get into the Hudson Bay
country?" asked Tommy. "I should think he'd know better."

"I reckon the Little Brass God had nothing to say regarding his
journey," replied Will. "Two months ago the house of Mr. Frederick
Tupper, on Drexel Boulevard, Chicago, was burglarized. Besides
taking considerable money and silver plate, the thief also carried
away the Little Brass God."

"I don't think any thief in his right mind would do that!" declared
Sandy. "What could he do with a Little Brass God? He couldn't
pawn it, or sell it, or trade it, without its being traced back to
him!"

"Well, he took it just the same!" Will replied.

"How much is he worth?" asked George.

"Not more than five dollars."

"Then he isn't one of those East India Little Brass Gods with his
legs crossed, and his arms folded, and a grin on his face?"

"His legs are crossed, his arms are folded, and there is a grin on
his face!" replied Will with a smile. "But he's certainly not one
of the population of a Hindu temple."

"He's just a common Little Brass God, probably made in Newark, New
Jersey," suggested George. "What do they want him for?"

"They want to search him!" replied Will.

"Aw, come on, tell us all about it!" urged Tommy.

"Well," Will explained with a smile, "the tummy of the Little Brass
God IS supposed to