“Thank you!  We do not require any help.  It was good of you to think of us.  But we got out the way we came in.  We did not enter the tunnel as you did, but came in through another entrance which was not closed by the landslide.  Then we made a turn through a gateway in a tunnel connecting with ours—­a gateway which seems to have been opened by the earthquake—­ and we came here, just now.

“Too late, I see, to claim the discovery of the idol of gold,” went on Mr. Hardy.  “But I trust you will be generous, and allow us to make observations of the buildings and other relics.”

“As much as you please, and with the greatest pleasure in the world,” was the prompt answer of Professor Bumper.  “All I lay sole claim to is the golden idol.  You are at liberty to take whatever else you find in Kurzon and to make what observations you like.”

“That is generous of you, and quite in contrast to—­er—­to the conduct of our leader.  I trust he may awaken to a sense of the injustice he did you.”

But Professor Beecher was not there to hear this.  He had stalked away in anger.

“Humph!” grunted Tom.  Then he continued:  “That story about a government concession was all a fake, Professor, else he’d have put up a fight now.  Contemptible sneak!”

In fact the story of Tom Swift’s trip to the underground land of wonders is ended, for with the discovery of the idol of gold the main object of the expedition was accomplished.  But their adventures were not over by any means, though there is not room in this volume to record them.

Suffice it to say that means were at once taken to get the golden image out of the cave of the ancient city.  It was not accomplished without hard work, for the gold was heavy, and Professor Bumper would not, naturally, consent to the shaving off of so much as an ear or part of the flat nose, to say nothing of one of the half dozen extra arms and legs with which the ugly idol was furnished.

Finally it was safely taken out of the cave, and along the stone passage to the opening formed by the overthrown trees, and thence on to camp.

And at the camp a surprise awaited Tom.

Some long-delayed mail had been forwarded from the nearest place of civilization and there were letters for all, including several for our hero.  One in particular he picked out first and read eagerly.

“Well, is every little thing all right, Tom?” asked Ned, as he saw a cheerful grin spread itself over his chum’s face.

“I should say it is, and then some!  Look here, Ned.  This is a letter from——­”

“I know.  Mary Nestor.  Go on.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Oh, I’m a mind-reader.”

“Huh!  Well, you know she was away when I went to call to say good-bye, and I was a little afraid Beecher had got an inside edge on me.”

“Had he?”

“No, but he tried hard enough.  He went to see Mary in Fayetteville, just as you heard, be-fore he came on to join his party, but he didn’t pay much of a visit to her.”