“I hardly know.  I want to have a talk with whoever owns that image, to learn where they got it.  One thing is sure, it proves that Mr. Illingway’s information about the city of gold is correct.”

“But it doesn’t tell us where it is,” said Ned.

“It must be somewhere around here,” declared his chum.  “Otherwise the image wouldn’t be here.”

“Bless my gaiters, that’s so!” exclaimed the odd man.

“Not necessarily,” insisted Ned.  “Why one of the images is away over in Africa, and this one may have been brought hundreds of miles from the underground city.”

“I don’t believe so,” declared Tom.  “We’re somewhere in the neighborhood of the city, according to Mr. Illingway’s map, I’m sure.  That would be true, image or no image.  But when you take the little gold statue into consideration it makes me positive that I’m near the end of the trail.  I’ve just got to have a talk with those people to learn where the statue came from.”

“Look out for Delazes,” warned Ned.

“I intend to.  As soon as I can, I’m going to leave him and his men behind and set off in the balloon.  But first I want to get an idea of where to head for.  We must locate the plain on which stands the ruined temple.”

“It’s getting exciting,” remarked Ned.  “I wish—­”

“Supper am serbed in de dinin’ cah!” interrupted Eradicate with a laugh, as he imitated a Pullman porter.

“That’s the best thing you could wish for,” put in Tom gaily.  “Come on, we’ll have a good meal, a sleep, and then we’ll be ready to play detectives again to-morrow.”

They all slept soundly that night, though Tom had some idea of staying awake to see if Delazes paid any secret visits to the house where the golden image was kept.  But he realized that the Mexican, if he wanted to, could easily find means to outwit him, so the young inventor decided to get all the rest he could and trust to chance to help him out.

His first visit after breakfast was to the house of the aged Mexican.  The image was not in sight, though Tom and Ned and Mr. Damon looked eagerly around for it.  There was a curious light in the eyes of the old man as Tom asked for the little statue of gold.  Delazes was not in evidence.  Tom had to conduct the conversation in Spanish, no particularly easy task for him, though he made out all right.

“Will you sell the image?” he asked.

“No sell,” replied the Mexican quickly.

“Will you please let me look at it?”

The Mexican hesitated a moment, called a command to some one in the next room, and, a moment later the old woman shuffled in, bearing the wonderful golden image.  Tom could not repress a little gasp of delight as he saw it at close range, for it was beautifully carved out of solid, yellow gold.