"When I came to," continued Montenay, "I thought sure I was crazy. I was lyin' in a palm-thatch hut, on a floor littered wi' bones an' refuse an' smellin' to high heaven. To one side was a little dish full o' palm oil, with a lighted wick floatin' in it. Leanin' up against the wall, behind the lamp, was a big painted mummy. Layin' in front o' the mummy was an ankh, four foot long an' made out o' solid gold."

"What!" Mr. Wallace stared at the other, almost speechless. The two boys, fascinated by the deadly earnestness of Montenay's recital, were pale with excitement. "But go ahead, man. I can talk later."

"I was still trussed up like a turkey, but I wriggled and squirmed until I got loose. My shoulder was badly torn up," went on Captain Mac, "and I was nigh frantic wi' the pain. A little o' the palm oil helped, but wi' them things around me I thought sure I was crazy. I crawled to the door, an' found I was in the hut inside the ivory zareba.

"The whole business must ha' gone to my head, for I don't remember very well what happened then. I know I went back to the mummy an' saw that his neck was torn open. There was somethin' shinin', and I grabbed at it. Just then I heard somethin' behind me, an' there was the big lion, standin' and lashin' his tail. I remember laughing, then I caught up the lamp an' flung it at him. The oil blazed up as the vessel smashed him fair between the eyes, he gave a roar, and I fainted again.

"Next I remember was Mbopo bending over me. The poor fellow had come to the hut in the mornin' an' found me. It seemed that I had been staked out as a sacrifice to Pongo. This Pongo was a combination o' the lion and ankh. The ankh was the real god, but the lion had taken up livin' in the hut, so the lion was called Pongo and worshipped as the reg'lar deity. In short, whoever had possession o' the ankh could boss the whole country. Pongo, which was the lion, had carried me to the hut. I was in possession o' the hut an' was the first who had ever escaped the sacrifice.

Therefore, I was sacred and in the way o' bein' a god mysel'. I didn't find this all out right off, mind. I stayed in that village for six months.

"I taught Mbopo some English an' learned some pigmy talk. No, I didn't bother none whatever wi' the lion. He showed up later an' took possession o' the hut again. My shoulder was a long time healin' and I guess my nerve was gone for a while. Man, but I wanted to carry off that gold ankh an' that ivory! But the thing was impossible. After six months I got a chance while I was out wi' hunters, and I lit out. I worked my way out by strikin' a bunch of Arabs who treated me white. That's the yarn."

There was a moment of silence. Burt and Critch stared at Montenay in fascination. Mr. Wallace was looking down at the table. Finally he glanced up and spoke, slowly.

"Mac, you said something about proofs."

"I did that." Captain Mac unbuckled his belt, and took a small silk-wrapped package from it. "I told ye that I grabbed something from the mummy. Here it is."

Mr. Wallace unwrapped the package, while the boys leaned over his shoulder in high excitement. From the oiled silk fell out three linked scarabs, set in wrought. Critch gave a gasp, but Mr. Wallace turned over the scarabs and held them closer to the light as he examined their inscriptions.

"Hm!" he exclaimed at length. "Montenay, your proofs are pretty good. This seems to have formed part of a necklace belonging to one Ta-En-User, high priest of Maat. I should say the scarabs belonged to about the Twenty-first Dynasty."

"Ye're no child yersel'," chuckled Captain Mac in delight. "That's just what they told me at the British Museum. Now, here's another queer thing.

"Ye know more about old Egypt than I do, Wallace. From what I could learn from Mbopo, it seemed that long ago these white pigmies migrated from the east to where they are now. On their way they struck a half-ruined "City of the Gods," as Mbopo called it. They brought away a lot o' stuff from there, which they looked on as sacred. All that's left is the mummy and the ankh. Is that possible?"

"Possible," returned Mr. Wallace, "but hardly probable. They might have run across one of the extreme southern Egyptian cities, and indeed that would be the only logical explanation of the presence of these things so far west. Yes, the tradition must be true. It's a strange bit of prehistoric African history you've run into, Mac."

"It is that," rejoined the other. "Well, for a year I've been tryin' to make up a party to carry off that ivory an' that gold ankh. I got hold o' Tom Reynolds at Cairo, an' put it up to him. He called me a plain fool. I found McConnell in London. He laughed at the yarn. I tried to find you, but ye'd vanished around Tripoli. So at last I came down to tackle the job alone.

"When I struck your party, I knew right off that wi' the laddies along ye'd never tackle it. Man, I was fair desperate! I determined to lead ye off to the edge o' the pigmy country, where we are now, an' then put it up to ye. There ye are, Wallace. Will ye come in wi' me an' try it? The pigmies won't hurt me, mind."

Mr. Wallace stared at the scarabs. Burt stole a glance at his chum, and the two waited in breathless interest, not daring to urge the project. At length Mr. Wallace sighed.

"You've tempted me, Mac, tempted me more than you know! I'd like nothing better than to make a dash for that place with you—not only for the treasure, but for the discoveries we could make. But with the boys here it is impossible. I am responsible for them, and I dare not go off and leave them in this country. If you'd told me this back up the river I'd have left them at the trading station and made a dash in with you."

"Oh, uncle!" burst out Burt, dismayed. "Ain't it perfectly safe? Take us! Let's all go! Cap'n Mac says they won't hurt him; he's a kind o' god, an' he can fix it so's we'll all—"

"No," broke in his uncle decisively. "I refuse to take the risk, Burt. No use, lad. That's final. You'll have to trust to my judgment in this affair."

"Ye're right," nodded Montenay dejectedly. "I can't blame ye, Wallace. But do ye understand? Ye won't hold the compass business against me—"

Mr. Wallace sprang to his feet and held out his hand.

"Nonsense! Shake, old chap, and forget it!" And the two clasped hands silently, while the boys gave a shout of delight.

"I knew it!" cried Burt joyously, dancing around the two men. "I knew Cap'n Mac was all right! Hurray!"

"I wish you'd take us an' get after them white pigmies, though," put in Critch disconsolately.

"I'd certainly like to get hold of that mummy," asserted Mr. Wallace, his eyes sparkling. "To say nothing of the ankh!"

"An' to say nothin' o' the ivory an' gold," laughed Montenay.

"But," cried Burt excitedly, "why didn't you get after that lion an' kill him? I should ha' thought you'd do that right away!"

"No," and Montenay shook his head. "As I told ye, my nerve was pretty well gone, laddy. The pigmies had guns, but they were old trade-muskets. None o' them except Mbopo, mebbe, would ha' stood up to the lion. That chap Mbopo was a good sort. He stood by me right along, took care o' me when I was sick wi' fever, cured up my wounds, an' learned to speak passable Scots dialect. It was amusin' to hear the boy speak the tongue."

"That feudal business interests me," said Mr. Wallace thoughtfully. "Was this Mbopo a chief?"

"I don't know, rightly," returned the other. "The old witch-doctor was the boss, but Mbopo seemed to be second in charge. The women o' the place cultivated yams an' plantains, while the men hunted. They didn't seem to use poison, like the black dwarfs. That's another queer thing. They had poisoned weapons, right enough, but they got supplies o' the stuff from the blacks. Ye mind, the Wambuti and other black dwarfs are simply parasites on the bigger tribes. Well, these white chaps were parasites on the black dwarfs, near's I could figure it out."

Critch related what had happened on the launch coming upstream, when the black boy had caught a glimpse of Montenay's shoulder. The eccentric explorer laughed heartily.

"They all know it," he said. "The whites couldn't draw it out o' them wi' tortures, but every tribe hereabouts knows what Pongo is, or think they do. It's mostly reputation. These niggers are mighty superstitious."

"Well, we ain't goin' to leave that white pigmy business without doin' anything, are we?" asked Burt. Captain Mac glanced at his uncle.

"Not if I can help it," he smiled. "How about my original proposition, Wallace? Now that ye know the yarn, will ye wait here for me while I take a crack at the pigmies?"

"Why, yes," returned Mr. Wallace slowly. "But frankly, Mac, I think you would be foolish. We are on the edge of their country, but you'd have to get through the black fellows first. They wouldn't know you, and in any event would probably have forgotten all about you. By the way, in which direction is this place of Mbopo's?"

"Northeast from here," returned Montenay, "as near as I know. I'm pretty sure I'll be all right, Wallace. I can show the beggars my shoulder if necessary. Once I get to Mbopo with a few bearers, we'll bring off the ivory."

"If they'll let you," supplemented Mr. Wallace. "You're too cocksure about it, Mac. While I'd be perfectly willing to go along if I was alone, my personal opinion is that it's mighty risky."

"Nothing venture, nothing win," laughed Captain Mac gayly. "Man, but I'm eager to be done wi' the caravan and into the pigmy country! Now let's settle our plans. How long would ye be willin' to wait here?"

"That depends on how long you'll be," answered Mr. Wallace, Yankee-like. "If you meet with opposition I suppose you'll come back?"

"That I will," responded Montenay. "Suppose ye wait here two weeks for me. If I don't show up by then, work up towards the Makua. If I get the stuff I'll hit the headwaters o' the Makua, get some canoes, an' come down. How's that?"

"Sounds all right to me," rejoined the American. "We'll give you two weeks, then. If we hear nothing from you by that time we'll move up slowly toward the Makua. It will be easy enough to learn whether or not you have passed downstream. We'll wait there another two weeks, which is all I dare give. That will make about six weeks in all."

"Vera good," announced Montenay with a nod of satisfaction. "Now about the boys. I'll take twenty, if that suits you. Some rockets might come in handy, too."

These rockets were some that Mr. Wallace had obtained at Boma, made so they could be firedfrom a gun or revolver. They were intended for signaling at night, but had not been used so far.

"Half the caravan is yours," laughed the American. "You'll leave your guns here, I suppose?"

"All but my Express," returned Montenay. "I'll travel light."

"When will you start?" asked Burt.

"To-morrow morning," grinned the explorer, calling for John. When that worthy appeared he was instructed to make all arrangements and select a score of the best Bantus as porters. A bustle of excitement soon rose from the camp, while the four discussed the final arrangements. In half an hour John reappeared and informed them that all was ready for the start.

Before daybreak the boys were up and at breakfast. With the first streak of gray in the east Captain Montenay called his men together, and all left the camp. Mr. Wallace and the boys had decided to accompany him for a mile or two in order to see him off safely.

The party started toward the northeast, in which direction the forest extended and dipped down into heavier jungle and lower ground. After two miles they came to a small stream, and here the farewells were said. Montenay shook hands all around, with no display of emotion.

"If ye're no seein' me again," he said to Mr. Wallace, while the porters were fording the stream, "ye'll deliver the letter I gave ye last night?"

"I will," answered Mr. Wallace soberly. "And what's more, I'll ship the boys home and come back for you. So long, old man!"

"So long. Good luck to ye," and Montenay was caught up between two of his men and carried across the shallow stream. On the opposite bank he turned and waved, the three gave him a hearty cheer, and with his little band he was lost in the heavy foliage.