When the boys came nearer to the cabin, they saw many footprints dotting the level surface of the snow. They peered through the window which gave on the side of their approach, but could see no one moving about on the inside. Save for the great fire blazing in the rudely-constructed fire-place, the cabin seemed to be absolutely deserted.

“Suppose you give me a boost through this window,” Thede suggested, as the boys at last stood close against the rear wall.

“Why not go around to the door?” George asked.

“I might get a bullet in my coco when I turned the angle of the house!” replied Thede. “There’s no knowing who’s around there.”

“That’s a fact!” Will agreed. “We’ve got one wounded boy on our hands now, and we don’t care about having another.”

“Look here,” George cut in crossly, “if you think I’m too much trouble, you can just drop me down in the snow anywhere and I’ll take care of myself!”

“Aw, cut it out!” roared Tommy.

The boys laughed so heartily at the idea of leaving their chum in the snow to care for himself that his mood instantly changed to one of apology. In a moment, he was all smiles again.

“Now, if you’ve got that little scrap settled, you can give me a boost through this window!” suggested Thede.

“Sure the door’s closed?” asked Tommy.

“Closed and latched!” was the answer.

The boys had some difficulty in removing the single sash which protected the opening, but the task was finally accomplished, and then Thede crawled through into the cottage.

The boys heard him drop lightly to the floor and then followed a long silence. Presently Sandy clambered up the log wall and peered inside.

He saw Thede standing close against the wall, gazing down at a great haunch of venison which lay on the floor.

“If you want to keep that in good condition for eating, hang it out in the frost,” laughed Sandy. “We can’t afford to lose that!”

Thede beckoned to him to enter, and the boy dropped down on the floor.

“Who brought it here?” he asked.

“Search me!” Thede answered.

“It might have been Antoine.”

“Aw, he couldn’t kill a deer and bring in that big haunch with that lame wrist of his!” Thede exclaimed.

Sandy looked out of the window and beckoned to his chums to enter.

They gathered around the haunch of venison with amazement depicted on their faces. The fire still burned brightly, and it was evident that it had not been long since new fuel had been laid.

“Some one made us a present, I take it!” Tommy grinned.

“But who?” demanded Will.

“It’s one of the mysteries of the British Northwest Territories!” replied Sandy. “Suppose,” the boy continued, “we open the door and bring George in. He must be getting cold by this time!”

“Be careful when you open the door, then,” Thede warned.

But there was no one at the door or, at first, within view of it. There were plenty of tracks, however, which appeared to have been recently made. George was carried into the cabin, and then Sandy and Tommy set out to trace some of the foot-prints to their destination.

“I’m going to know where that fellow went,” the former declared.

“I have an idea he’ll come back before long,” Sandy suggested. “He’s built a nice fire and brought in plenty of venison, and won’t go away and leave the cosy corner just yet.”

When the boys came to the edge of the morass, they saw a figure flitting into the underbrush on the other side.

“I guess we’ve frightened him away!” Tommy declared.

“Shall we follow him?” asked Sandy.

“Aw, what’s the use?” Tommy questioned. “You said yourself, a little while ago, that he’d come back to get a bite of that haunch of venison.”

“And I believe he will!” answered the boy.

George was made comfortable in one of the bunks, additional fuel brought in for the night, and then Will, Tommy and Sandy set out to bring the supplies and tents from the camp.

“Suppose Antoine, or some one else, should bring the Little Brass God to this cabin,” George began.

“I wish we knew whether it was Antoine who sat before the fire last night,” Thede puzzled. “If I could just get my hands on that idiotic little plaything, I’d sneak back to old Finklebaum and get his hundred dollars so quick it would make his head swim.”

“His hundred dollars!” repeated George. “I thought I heard you saying last night if you got hold of the Little Brass God, you’d make him put up a thousand dollars for it!”

“So I would, too,” declared Thede. “And he wouldn’t pay the thousand dollars, either, unless he saw a chance to make ten out of it!”

During the entire absence of the boys George and Thede discussed the mystery of the Little Brass God. They wondered how it had made such good time into that country, and puzzled over the strange fact that they had blundered upon it on the very night of their arrival.

But when at last the boys returned with the tents and a part of the provisions, drawn along on the “drag,” they had reached no conclusion whatever.

It was all a mystery which time alone could solve!

Although it was now the middle of the afternoon, Will and Sandy insisted on making another trip to the old camp.

“If we’re going to stay in the cabin,” Will urged, “we’ve got to do the job some time and we may as well do it now.”

“I guess you’ll have a good load if you get it all!” Tommy suggested.

The boys insisted that they were able to bring in the remaining stock and set off through the snow. Tommy and Thede continued to drag in wood until there was a great stack of it piled against the cabin. Every time they opened the door, they looked in vain for the appearance of the man they had seen running away through the underbrush on the other side of the swamp, but he was not seen.

“I’d like to know what’s the matter with that fellow!” Tommy observed as darkness settled down and the two boys returned to the cabin.

In half an hour Sandy and Will came in with the provisions which they had brought from the camp, They reported that quite a large share of the tinned stuff had been cached in the snow about half way between the cabin and the site of the old camp.

“We couldn’t bring it all in,” Sandy announced.

“I hope the man we drove out of the cabin will find it if he needs it,” Will observed.

After a hearty meal they cleared away the dishes and sat around the fire discussing the situation until ten o’clock. Then they secured the door and windows of the cabin and crawled into their bunks, which were remarkably well supplied with blankets and tanned bear skins.

In the middle of the night the fire died down to embers and Will arose to pile on more wood. He moved softly about in order not to disturb the sleep of his chums, and finally sat down by the blaze to enter anew upon a mental discussion of the mystery which surrounded them.

Will heard the sash rattling, as if in the light wind which was blowing, and glanced toward it.

What he saw was not the velvet darkness of the night laying against the glass. The firelight which shone through the glazed sash revealed the outlines of a human face looking in upon him.

It was an ugly face, with dusky skin, narrow slits of eyes, and straight black hair which seemed to wind and coil about the repulsive countenance as a collection of serpents might have done.

The face disappeared as the boy looked, and Will tiptoed softly to the bunk where Tommy lay and awoke him with a violent shake.

“Get up!” he said.

“Aw, go chase yourself!” answered Tommy not very politely.

“It’s worth seeing,” Will assured the lad. Tommy seized a shoe from the floor, hurled it at the head of his chum, and then rose to sitting position, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“What have you found now?” he demanded.

“There’s a new one on us!” Will declared.

Tommy opened his eyes wide in wonder.

“Not a new Boy Scout?” he asked.

“We seem to pick up plenty of new Boy Scouts,” laughed Will, “but this isn’t a new Boy Scout. This is the Little Brass God given the power of expression and the use of his legs!”

“So you’ve gone and got ’em too, have you?” demanded Tommy.

“When I got up to renew the fire,” Will answered, “I heard the window sash to the north rattling. Thinking that I ought to go and fix it, I glanced that way and saw the Little Brass God looking down upon me.”

“Was he sitting up in the window with his legs crossed, and his arms folded, and his face making you think of the Old Nick?” asked Tommy.

“I could see only the head, but the head looked exactly as I imagine the Little Brass God looks; with the firelight shining on the yellowish hide, the face gave me the impression of being made out of brass!”

“You better read another page out of the dream book and go back to bed!” laughed Tommy. “You’ve been laboring under strong excitement lately and I think you need a long rest.”