When Thede returned to the cabin with numerous squirrels, rabbits and ducks, Sandy greeted him with a shout of joy.

“This will seem like living in the north woods!” he cried. “We’ll have all kinds of game from this time on!”

“You bet we will!” replied Thede. “I’m some hungry myself, when it comes to that! I guess I can get a few!”

“You never shot all these!” Sandy doubted, poking the squirrels and rabbits about with a finger. “You never got them all by yourself!”

“How do you know I didn’t?” asked Thede, with a provoking grin.

“Because you couldn’t,” Sandy answered.

“All right, then,” admitted the boy. “We all had a share in the shooting, and Will and Tommy sent me back with the game.”

“Where have they gone?” asked Sandy, a look of indignation over-spreading his face. “They’re always running away and leaving me to watch the camp! I wish they’d give me a chance sometime.”

Thede sat down in one of the clumsy chairs which the cabin afforded and laughed until his sides shook.

“I don’t think any of you boys are famishing for fresh air and adventure,” he said in a moment. “You seem to me to be kept pretty busy.”

“Well,” Sandy exclaimed, “they might let me go with them when they start off on a tour like that. Where have they gone, anyway?”

“They said they were going out in search of the Little Brass God!” laughed Thede.

“Honest?” demanded Sandy.

“That’s what they said!”

“I hope they don’t find it!” Sandy exclaimed.

The boys cooked a liberal supply of game for dinner and then began restlessly walking to and fro over the cabin floor.

“What’s the matter with you fellows?” asked George in a moment, speaking from the bunk.

“Hello, you’ve woke up, have you?” demanded Sandy. “I thought perhaps you’d sleep all day! How’s your head feel?”

“Rotten, thank you!” answered George.

Sandy took a couple more turns about the room and then sat down by the side of the bunk where George lay.

“I know what’s the matter with you!” George said, directly.

“What’s the answer!” asked Sandy, rather sourly.

“You need exercise!” replied George. “You’ve been ramming about the cabin all the morning, and I’ve been wishing for the last three hours that you’d take to the tall timber.”

“Is that so?” shouted Sandy springing to his feet.

“Yes, that’s so!” answered George. “I wish you and Thede would go out for a ramble. If you don’t know what else to do, walk over to the river and catch a fish. That’ll go all right for supper.”

“You’re on!” cried Sandy.

The boys were ready for the trip in a very few moments. It was not necessary now to provide against mosquitoes and “bull-dogs,” for the sudden cold spell had effectually silenced them for the winter.

“Now don’t you fellows come home unless you bring about twenty pounds of trout,” George directed as the two lads opened the door and disappeared from sight.

The boys had proceeded but a short distance when Sandy called his companion’s attention to a peculiar foot-print in the snow.

“I guess we must be approaching the corner of State and Madison again!” he laughed. “We come out into the woods to commune with nature, and find some new party butting in every time we turn around.”

“That’s an Indian’s foot-print!” declared Thede.

“How do you know that?” demanded Sandy. “You haven’t seen any Indian, have you? How can you tell an Indian’s foot-print from any one else’s? That may be a white man’s step, for all we know!”

“Nay, nay, me son!” laughed Thede. “I know by the shape of the moccasin and by the way the fellow walks.”

“You know a whole lot of things!” laughed Sandy. “If you keep on accumulating knowledge, you’ll beat Tommy out of his job as the Sherlock Holmes of the party!”

“Well, if you don’t believe he’s an Indian, you’d better go and ask him!” Thede argued. “He’s right over there in the thicket!”

Sandy gave a quick start of alarm and put his hand back to his automatic. Thede motioned him to leave his gun where it was.

“This is a friendly Indian,” the boy explained. “I’ve often heard Pierre refer to him. He’s called Oje, but I don’t know whether that’s his name or not. He’s said to be the champion fisherman of this section, and if you really want to get fish for supper, we’d better get him interested.”

Oje was not a very romantic looking Indian, his general appearance being that of a bear fitted out with about three hides. The boys noticed, however, that none of the clothing he wore was fastened closely about his waist or throat. In fact, as he joined them with a grunt, they saw that the roughly-made garments were nearly all open.

The Indian knows better than to bring his clothing where it will come in contact with either his breath or with perspiration. Should he do this in very severe weather, he would soon find everything about him frozen stiff. He is sure, however, to carry enough clothing with him to keep him warm in repose and during the long nights.

“How do you know that’s Oje?” whispered Sandy, as the Indian stood looking questioningly at the two boys.

“Because he answers to the description.”

“Howdy!” the Indian exclaimed in a moment.

The boys returned the greeting, and then followed a conversation which was almost entirely expressed by signs.

Oje was invited to proceed with the boys on a fishing trip, and, later, to accept of their hospitality at the cabin. The Indian gave a grunt of assent, and at once turned toward the river.

As they passed the spot where the cache had been, Sandy glanced curiously toward the Indian, as though wondering whether he had not been the one to dig out the provisions. The Indian, however, walked on without appearing to notice either the rifled cache or the suspicious glances of the boy. Arrived at the river, the Indian, after carefully testing the ice, walked to a small island near the shore.

The boys looked on while he began his preparations for fishing. He went about the work quietly, yet seemed to be remarkably exact in all his motions. First he cut about twenty feet of fish-line in two in the middle of the piece and tied one end of each part to one end of a stick which he cut from the shore.

The knots he made in the fastening seemed primitive, but it was discovered later that they held very firmly. After a time he tied a bass hook to each fish-line, and on each hook he speared a little cube of fat pork which he drew from his pocket, and which had evidently done service through a long series of fishing expeditions.

Next he cut two holes in the ice, which was not very thick at that point, and over these the boys were invited to stand, sticks in hand, lines dangling from the poles.

Hardly had Sandy lowered his line which had a bullet flattened around it for a sinker, when he felt it jerk to one side, and almost immediately drew up a three-pound trout.

“Now, what do you think of that for catching fish?” demanded the boy.

Oje gave a satisfied grunt at this evident appreciation of his services, and motioned the lads to continue their sport.

Next Thede caught a gray trout somewhat smaller than the fish landed by Sandy, and then another three-pound speckled trout was landed.

“I guess if some of these fellows with hundred dollar fishing outfits could see us hauling beauties out of the water like this, they’d begin to understand what real fishing means!” Sandy exclaimed.

It was a glorious day for fishing, although a trifle cold. The sun shone down with a brilliance unequaled in more tropical climates, and there was little wind to send the chill through the clothing. After the boys had caught plenty of fish they started back toward the cabin.

Oje walked through the wilderness with a different manner from that with which he had accompanied the boys in the journey toward the river. He glanced sharply about, and frequently stopped to examine trifling marks in the snow. After a time he pointed to the track of a rabbit which had apparently departed from the faint trail in extreme terror, judging from the speed which had been made.

“Strange man!” he said significantly. “Find track soon!”

“Do you mean,” asked Sandy, “that there’s some one chasing us up?”

“Find track soon,” was all the explanation the Indian would make.

“Of course!” Sandy declared. “We couldn’t think of going back to the cabin without butting into some new combination!”

In a short time the Indian discovered the footprints he was looking for, and pointed them out to the boys. Two persons had passed that way not long before. The tracks in the snow showed that one had worn moccasins and the other ordinary shoes.

“I should think that fellow’s feet would freeze!” Sandy observed. “He don’t seem to have any overshoes on!”

“How do you know?” asked Thede. “He may have a small foot and wear overshoes shaped like a shoe itself.”

“I wish we could follow the trail and find out where they’re going!” Sandy observed.

“I’m game for it!” declared Thede.

The two boys pointed to the foot-prints and started to follow them.

The Indian seemed pleased at the idea, and soon led the way toward the range of hills whither the foot-prints pointed.

“The first thing we know,” Thede suggested, “we’ll be running into a nest of black bears. They’re thick as bees up in this country, and they’ll be hungry, too, with all this snow on the ground.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a succession of low, angry growls came to the ears of the boys, and the next moment they saw Oje springing into the lower branches of a great fir tree.

“I guess he knows what’s good for his health!” shouted Sandy. “Me for a tree, too!”

The boys probably never made quicker motions in their lives.

“Have you got a searchlight with you?” asked Thede.

Sandy shook his head sadly.

“Then we can’t see to shoot the beasts,” wailed Thede, “and it looks to me like one of those long, cold nights in a tree!”