“And so, if the will is there, a burglar stole it.  And if the will is not there, some one interested in the disposition of the property walked away with it!  Is that it?”

“That’s the way we figure it out!” Will answered.  “And in the meantime,” he continued, “an older will is being offered for probate.  If the Little Brass God fails to disclose the last will, the property will go to a young man who was intensely hated and despised by the man who built up the fortune.  Simon Tupper will turn over in his grave if Howard Sigsbee, his nephew, has the handling of that money.”

“I can’t see how that’s going to get Simon anything!” grinned Tommy.

“Now,” George asked, “why do they think the Little Brass God was brought into the Hudson Bay country?”

“We have traced it to an antique shop on lower State street,” Will answered.  “From there to the shabby parlor of 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.