“Nothing,” replied George.  “Never saw it!”

“Seems to me you’re pretty much interested in it, though,” commented the boy, rising from the bunk and taking a seat before the fire.

“I was thinking about Old Finklebaum cheating himself by getting too gay,” answered George.  “Go on, and tell me about it!”

“So when this man who offers the thousand dollars leaves the shop,” Thede continued, “Finklebaum chases out to a dealer in antiques to make inquiries about the Little Brass God.  I guess he thinks it’s some East India idol, or something of that kind, and that his fortune is made.”

“Supposing it should be an East India idol!” exclaimed George,

“It may be, for all I know,” Thede replied.  “Anyhow, while old Finklebaum was out trying to find out how much his Little Brass God was worth, little Ikey sold it for a ten dollar note.”

“Oh my, oh my, oh my!” laughed George.  “I’ll bet there was a merry old time when Finklebaum returned and found the ten dollar note in the drawer and the Little Brass God gone.”

“Such a racket as never was!” declared Thede, laughing at the recollection of the scene.  “I was in the shop,” he went on, “getting out some articles Mother Murphy had been borrowing money on, and heard all that took place.”

“Go on and tell me about it.”

“Old Finklebaum said he was just plumb ruined.  He said he’d snatch Ikey bald-headed, and do a lot of other things to him, if he didn’t walk right out into State street and bring back that Little Brass God.  Holy Moses!  You ought to have seen how scared Little Ikey was!”

“Could he describe the man who bought the Little Brass God?” inquired George in a tone intended to be indifferent.

“Oh, yes!” replied Thede.  “Ikey said the man wore a leather jacket with a red belt around the waist, a fur cap and rings in his ears.  So Ikey was sent out to find the fellow, and I asked Old Finklebaum what he’d give me if I’d bring back the Little Brass God.  He says he’ll give me a hundred dollars the minute I put it in his hands, and I ducked down State street in search of this gink with the rings in his ears.”

“And didn’t find him?”

“If I had you wouldn’t find me up here in this beastly country,” replied Thede.  “That is,” the boy went on, “if I had found him with the Little Brass God in his possession.”

“So you really did find him?” questioned George.

“Yes, I ran across him in a saloon down near Twelfth street, and stuck to him like a bulldog to a cat’s back for two days and nights.”

“Why didn’t you go and tell Finklebaum where he was, and let him do the watching?  That’s what you should have done!”

“Not for mine!” answered the other.  “Old Finklebaum would have taken the case out of my hands, and fooled me out of my hundred simoleons.  I follows this gink around until he becomes sociable and sort of adopts me.  I gets into his furnished room down on Eldridge court and searches it during his absence.  There ain’t no Little Brass God there!”