“Please don’t tempt me,” Tom said with a laugh.  “I’m only too anxious to go, and if it wasn’t for the stabilizer I’d be with you in a minute.  But——­ Well, you’ll have to get along without me.  Maybe I can join you later.”

“What’s this about the idol keeping guard over the ancient city?” asked Ned, for he was interested in strange stories.

“It seems,” explained the professor, “that in the early days there was a strange race of people, inhabiting Central America, with a somewhat high civilization, only traces of which remained when the Spaniards came.

“But these traces, and such hieroglyphics, or, to be more exact pictographs, as I have been able to decipher from the old documents, tell of one country, or perhaps it was only a city, over which this great golden idol of Quitzel presided.

“There is in some of these papers a description of the idol, which is not exactly a beauty, judged from modern standards.  But the main fact is that it is made of solid gold, and may weigh anywhere from one to two tons.”

“Two tons of gold!” cried New Newton.  “Why, if that’s the case it would be worth——­” and he fell to doing a sum in mental arithmetic.

“I am not so concerned about the monetary value of the statue as I am about its antiquity,” went on Professor Bumper.  “There are other statues in this buried city of Kurzon, and though they may not be so valuable they will give me a wealth of material for my research work.”

“How do you know there are other statues?” asked Mr. Damon.

“Because my documents tell me so.  It was because the people made other idols, in opposition, as it were, to Quitzel, that their city or country was destroyed.  At least that is the legend.  Quitzel, so the story goes, wanted to be the chief god, and when the image of a rival was set up in the temple near him, he toppled over in anger, and part of the temple went with him, the whole place being buried in ruins.  All the inhabitants were killed, and trace of the ancient city was lost forever.  No, I hope not forever, for I expect to find it.”

“If all the people were killed, and the city buried, how did the story of Quitzel become known?” asked Mr. Damon.

“One only of the priests in the temple of Quitzel escaped and set down part of the tale,” said the professor.  “It is his narrative, or one based on it, that I have given you.”

“And now, what I want to do, is to go and make a search for this buried city.  I have fairly good directions as to how it may be reached.  We will have little difficulty in getting to Honduras, as there are fruit steamers frequently sailing.  Of course going into the interior—­to the Copan valley—­is going to be harder.  But an expedition from a large college was recently there and succeeded, after much labor, in ex-cavating part of a buried city.  Whether or not it was Kurzon I am unable to say.

“But if there was one ancient city there must be more.  So I want to make an attempt.  And I counted on you, Tom.  You have had considerable experience in strange quarters of the earth, and you’re just the one to help me.  I don’t need money, for I have interested a certain millionaire, and my own college will put up part of the funds.”