the gold. Then, too, they may have thought it was part of his
religion, and as he had so often wanted them to adopt his beliefs,
they reasoned out that they could now do so, by worshiping the
golden god."

"Anyhow, that's what they did, and the image is there to-day, in
that far-off African village. But I haven't got to the real news
yet. The image of solid gold is only a part of it."

"Before this traveler died he told some of the more intelligent
natives that the image had come from a far-off underground city--a
regular city of gold--nearly everything in it that was capable of
being made of metal, being constructed of the precious yellow gold.
The golden image was only one of a lot more like it, some smaller
and some larger--"

"Not larger, Tom, not larger, surely!" interrupted Mr. Swift. "Why,
my boy, think of it! An image of solid gold, bigger even than this
one Mr. Illingway writes of, which he says is three feet high. Why,
if there are any larger they must be nearly life size, and think of
a solid gold statue as large as a man--it would weigh--well, I'm
afraid, to say how much, and be worth--why, Tom, it's impossible. It
would be worth millions--all the wealth of a world must be in the
underground city. It's impossible Tom, my boy!"

"Well, that may be," agreed Tom. "I'm not saying it's true. Mr.
Illingway is telling only what he heard."

"Go on! Tell some more," begged Mr. Damon. "Bless my shirt studs,
this is getting exciting!"