xamining was found in some ancient graves outside the
walls, but had nothing to do with the big and mythical treasure."

"What was the place like? I love old ruins," broke in Benita again.

"Oh! wonderful. A gigantic, circular wall built by heaven knows who,
then half-way up the hill another wall, and near the top a third wall
which, I understood, surrounded a sort of holy of holies, and above
everything, on the brink of the precipice, a great cone of granite."

"Artificial or natural?"

"I don't know. They would not let us up there, but we were introduced
to their chief and high priest, Church and State in one, and a wonderful
old man he was, very wise and very gentle. I remember he told me he
believed we should meet again, which seemed an odd thing for him to say.
I asked him about the treasure and why he would not let the other white
men look for it. He answered that it would never be found by any man,
white or black, that only a woman would find it at the appointed time,
when it pleased the Spirit of Bambatse, under whose guardianship it
was."

"Who was the Spirit of Bambatse, Mr. Seymour?"

"I can't tell you, couldn't make out anything definite about her, except
that she was said to be white, and to appear sometimes at sunrise, or in
the moonlight, standing upon the tall point of rock of which I told you.
I remember that I got up before the dawn to look for her--like an idiot,
for of course I saw nothing--and that's all I know about the matter."

"Did you have any talk with my father, Mr. Seymour--alone, I mean?"

"Yes, a little. The next day he walked back to our waggon with us, being
glad, I fancy, of a change from the perpetual society of his partner
Jacob. That wasn't wonderful in a man who had been brought up at
Eton and Oxford, as I found out he had, like myself, and whatever his
failings may have been--although we saw no sign of them, for he would
not touch a drop of spirits--was a gentleman, which Jacob wasn't. Still,
he--Jacob--had read a lot, especially on out-of-the-way subjects,
and could talk every language under the sun--a clever and agreeable
scoundrel in short."

"Did my father say anything about himself?"

"Yes; he told me that he had been an unsuccessful man all his life,
and had much to reproach himself with, for we got quite confidential at
last. He added that he had a family in England--what family he didn't
say--whom he was anxious to make wealthy by way of reparation for past
misde