and about three feet high," went on Tom, referring to the
letter to make sure. "It's heavy, too, no hollows in it, and these
Africans regard it as a god. But that's not the strangest part of
it. Mr. Illingway goes on to say that there is no gold in that part
of Africa, and for a time he was at a loss how to account for the
golden image. He made some inquiries and learned that it was once
the property of a white traveler who made his home with the tribe
that now worships the image of gold. This traveler, whose name Mr.
Illingway could not find out, was much liked by the Africans. He
taught them many things, doctored them when they were sick, and they
finally adopted him into the tribe."

"It seems that he tried to make them better, and wanted them to
become Christians, but they clung to their own beliefs until he
died. Then, probably thinking to do his memory honor, they took the
golden image, which was among his possessions, and set it up as a
god."

"Bless my hymn book!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "What did they do that
for?"

"This white man thought a great deal of the image," said Tom, again
referring to the letter, "and the Africans very likely imagined
that, as he was so good to them, some of his virtues had passed into
the gold. Then, too, they may have thought it was part of his
religion, and as he had so often wanted them to adopt his beliefs,
they reasoned out that they could now do so, by worshiping the
golden god."

"Anyhow, that's what they did, and the image is there to-day, in
that far-off African village. But I haven't got to the real news
yet. The image of solid gold is only a part of it."

"Before this traveler died he told some of the more intelligent
natives that the image had come from a far-off underground city--a
regular city of gold--nearly everything in it that was capable of
being made of metal, being constructed of the precious yellow gold.
The golden image was only one of a lot more like it, some smaller
and some larger--"

"Not larger, Tom, not larger, surely!" interrupted Mr. Swift. "Why,
my boy, think of it! An image of solid gold, bigger even than this
one Mr. Illingway writes of, which he says is three feet high. Why,
if there are any larger they must be nearly life size, and think of
a solid gold statue as large as a man--it would weigh--well, I'm
afraid, to say how much, and be worth--why, Tom, it's impossible. It
would be worth millions--all the wealth of a world must be in the
un