The boys advanced cautiously, with George a little in advance.  The man at the fire sat with his chin on his breast as if in sound sleep.

“I don’t believe he’d say anything if we walked right in on him,” Thede declared.  “If he does, we can hold a gun on him and invite him to a more friendly mood.”

The man did not move as the boys came on, and George was about to call out to him when Thede caught him by the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare make a motion!” the boy whispered.  “Stand still where you are and look to the little shelf of rock on the other side of the fire.”

George looked, and his automatic and his searchlight almost clattered to the floor as his eyes rested on something which glittered like gold in the red light of the fire.  He turned to Thede, and there was a tremor in his voice as he whispered in his ear.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked.

“I think I know what it is!” was the whispered reply.

“It’s the Little Brass God!” whispered George excitedly.  “And I’m going to sneak over there and lay my hands on it before that fellow wakes up!”

“You never can do it!” advised Thede.

“I’ve just got to do it!”

“If that is the real Little Brass God, how did it ever get here?” whispered Thede.  “Strangest thing I ever heard of.”

“Gee whiz!” whispered George.  “We mustn’t stand around wondering how it got here.  The thing for us to do right now is to get possession of it.  I believe I can get over there without waking that fellow up.”

“Let me take your gun, then,” Thede advised, “and if he moves or makes any funny breaks, I’ll keep him under cover!”

George handed his gun over to the boy without a word and moved on toward the fire.  It was clear that the man was asleep, his chin resting on his breast, his shoulders supported by a wall of rock.

The thing which glittered on the ledge, now almost within reaching distance, was unquestionably the Little Brass God, the quest of which had brought the boys into the Hudson Bay country.

George had never set eyes on the toy, but there was no mistaking the crossed legs, the folded arms, the paunchy stomach, and the misshapen, leering face.  The boy heard a soft warning whispered from the opposite side of the room and turned his eyes from a greedy contemplation of the Little Brass God to the figure of the man crouching before the blaze.

The fellow had lifted his head, and now sat staring at the boy with a dumb wonder in his eyes.  While the boy looked the expression changed from wonder to alarm, from alarm to anger, and then the doubled-up figure straightened and sprang forward.

The boy heard a pistol shot, sensed the acrid smell of powder smoke, felt a muscular hand grasp the wrist which was extended toward the shelf of rock, and then a million stars seemed to be falling from the heavens.  There was a roar as of an ocean beating against breakers, and then a lull during which he heard another pistol shot.