a fourth rate
boarding house on Dearborn avenue, from there into the possession
of a French Canadian who hunts and fishes in the Moose river
district."

"That's pretty straight!" George agreed.

"How do they know this French Canadian got this Little Brass God
out of town?" asked Sandy. "You take a French Canadian of the
trapper sort, and get him well tanked, and he'll sell the ears off
his head for another drink of brandy. Perhaps he hocked the Little
Brass God."

"If he did," Will answered, "the search must begin all over again!"

"Who put this will in the tummy of this Little Brass God?" asked
Tommy.

"The man who made it--Simon Tupper," answered Will.

"Did he tell anyone where it was?"

"On his deathbed, he told Frederick Tupper, his nephew, where to
find it. It's a pity the young man didn't remove the document and
file it in probate court. It would have saved a lot of bother."

"But he didn't," George suggested, "and that gives us a fine trip
to the Hudson Bay country."

"When was the house of this Frederick Tupper burglarized?" asked
Sandy.

"On the night following the death of the old gentleman."

"Had the villain of the drama, this Howard Sigsbee, any knowledge
concerning the hiding place of the will?"

"He was not believed to have."

"Do they think he went there and got the will himself?"

"Huh!" objected Tommy. "If he'd gone after the will himself, he'd
have taken it out of the Little Brass God and carried it away with
him. And he'd have made a pile of ashes of it in about one minute,
at that!"

"Perhaps he couldn't open up the merry little chap," Sandy
suggested.

"We don't know whether he understood the secret or not," Will
answered. "All we know is that the Little Brass God was still
intact a week after it had been stolen."

"Then he knew the combination, or he didn't get the will!" argued
George.

"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 lea