"Anyhow!" Tommy laughed, "we've got only about a million or more
miles of country to search over for a little brass god about -----"

"Say, just how big is this Little Brass God?" asked Sandy.

"He's about six inches in height, and three inches across his dirty
shoulders, and he certainly is about the ugliest specimen of a
heathen beast that ever came down the pike."

"What would that French Canadian buy him for?" asked George.

"That's another thing we've got to find out," replied Will.

Tommy was about to ask another question when Will held up a hand
for silence. The leaping flames were sending long streamers of
light into the thicket on either side and over the glistening
waters of Moose river. The circle of illumination extended for
some distance on every side, except at the back of the tents, where
the level ground lay in shadows.

As the boys listened, the soft sound of a moccasined foot came to
their ears. It seemed only a yard away, and yet it was not in
sight. George dashed to the back of the tents, followed by a sharp
cry of alarm.




CHAPTER III