The Boy Scouts in Northern Wilds | Page 6

grinned the boy. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"The last time I saw you," George said, smiling at the memory, "you were diving into the South Branch to keep out of sight of a police boat."
"I remember that," grinned Thede. "They said I'd been swiping bananas up in Gambler's alley, and that wasn't true."
"Well, how in the name of all the seven wonders of the world did you get into the Hudson Bay country?" demanded George.
"Old Finklebaum," answered Thede.
"Old Finklebaum?" repeated George. "Do you mean the old Shylock who does business under the three balls down on State street? You can't mean that he had anything to do with your appearance here?"
"You bet he did have something to do with my being here!" Thede insisted. "You see, it's just this way: Old Finklebaum says to me one day, 'I'll take the hair off Ikey's head for selling that Little Brass God!'"
George gave a quick start of surprise at the mention of the very article the Boy Scouts had come to the Hudson Bay country in quest of, but checked himself in a second.
"What did he have a--a--what did you say it was?--if he didn't want to sell it?" asked the boy in assumed surprise.
"He did want to sell it up to that very day," was the reply, "but no one wanted to buy it. Then a man came into the shop and said he'd give a thousand dollars for it on sight. So Finklebaum, having the Little Brass God within a foot of his hawkbill nose, takes the man's address and says he'll let him know if he hears anything about the thing in demand. Finklebaum thinks that if the man'll pay one thousand dollars for it, he'll pay five, and that's why he loses out."
George's interest was now so intense that the boy ceased speaking and sat regarding him steadily for a moment.
"What do you know about the Little Brass God?" he demanded.
"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