The Boy Scouts in Northern Wilds | Page 6

a moment and
then walked back to three bunks fastened against the wall, one above
the other.

When he reached the front of the sleeping places an exclamation of
alarm came from a bundle of furs and blankets on the lower bunk and a
boy's frightened face gazed up at him. The boy sat observing the other
with evident suspicion for a moment, until his eyes caught sight of the
Boy Scout medals which adorned the sleeve of the lad's coat.
Then he extended an arm in the full salute of the Boy Scouts of
America, and sat back with a grin on his face to note the result.
"Beaver Patrol; Chicago," he said directly.
"I know you," George said with an exclamation of surprise. "You're
Thede Carson, and you're about the toughest little wharf rat in
Chicago!"
"That's a nice recommend for a patrol leader to give one of his scouts,"
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