certain
spring I can't seem to get right--"

"Perhaps you'd better see what Andy wants," suggested Mr. Damon
gently. He looked at Tom. They were both thinking of the same thing.

"I will," replied Mr. Swift quickly, and he passed into the library.

"I wonder how much Andy heard?" asked Ned, in a low voice.

"Oh, I don't believe it could have been very much," answered Tom.

"No, I stopped you just in time," rejoined his chum, "or you might
have blurted out the name of the city near where the buried gold
is."

"Yes, we must guard our secret well, Tom," put in Mr. Damon.

"Well, Andy couldn't have known anything about the letter I got,"
declared Tom, "and if he only heard snatched of our talk it won't do
him much good."

"The only trouble is he's been there long enough to have heard most
of it." suggested Ned. They could talk freely now, for in going into
the parlor Mr. Swift had tightly closed the door after him. They
could just hear the murmur of his voice speaking to Andy.

"Well, even if he does guess about the city of gold, and its
location, I don't believe he'll try to go there," remarked Tom,
after a pause.

A moment later they heard Mr. Swift letting Andy out of the front
door, and then the inventor rejoined his son and the others. He held
an open letter in his hand.

"This is strange--very strange," he murmured.

"What is it?" asked Tom quickly.

"Why. Mr. Foger has written to me asking to be allowed to sell some
of our patents and machines on commission."

"Sell them on commission!" exclaimed his son. "Why does a
millionaire like Mr. Foger want to be selling goods on commission?
It's only a trick!"

"No, it's not a trick," said Mr. Swift slowly. "He is in earnest.
Tom, Mr. Foger has lost his millions. His fortune has been swept
away by unfortunate investments, he tells me, and he would be glad
of any work I could give him. That's why Andy brought the letter
to-night. I just sent him back with an answer."

"What did you say, dad?"

"I said I'd think it over."

"Mr. Foger's millions gone," mused Tom.

"And Andy in there listening to what we said about the city of
gold," added Ned. "No wonder he was glad the door was open. He'd be
there in a minute, Tom, if he could, and so would Mr. Foger, if he
thought he could get rich. He wouldn't have to sell goods on
commission if he could pick up a few of the golden images."

"That's right," agreed Tom, with an uneasy air. "I wish I knew just
how