"Hurray!" whispered the red-haired lad hoarsely. "She's empty!"

Ashamed of his own timidity, Burt stepped past him without a word. As he
went, he lit a match and held it on high. Tearing a piece of the loose
thatch from the walls, he lit it and cast it on the floor and then the
two boys looked around.

The hut was much larger than the other dwellings of the white pigmies.
The floor was littered with bones, leaves, sticks and dirt of every
description. Close inside the door stood three earthenware vessels, and
while Burt threw more leaves and sticks on the little fire, Critch
picked up one of these.

"Palm oil!" he cried. "Here's a light, Burt! Put a strip of cloth in
each of these and we'll have elegant lamps."

In another moment each of the three improvised lamps was burning
faintly, while the fire also flared up. As it did so Burt gave an
exclamation.

"Say, I clear forgot about the mummy! There she is, Critch."

He pointed to the wall opposite the entrance, holding up his "lamp."
Both walked across the rubbish-littered floor, which smelt most
frightfully. Before them, standing erect against the wall, was a large
wooden mummy-case. Most of its paint was gone long since, only a few
faint traces of gilding remaining to show what it must once have been.
Beside this lay an object that brought a whistle of amazement from
Critch.

"That's Pongo, Burt! The golden ankh, sure's you're born!"

The boys looked down in awe at this relic of an ancient people. About
four feet long and nearly as thick as Burt's wrist, the symbol of the
Goddess of Truth gleamed up with a ruddy yellow color from the dirt that
half covered it. Fascinated by the sight, the boys stared in silence
until at last Critch uttered a sigh.

"Well, we're wastin' time, Burt. We got to plan out that trap."

Burt turned away from the two relics, and threw some dry sticks on the
fire. There was an opening in the center of the roof through which the
smoke escaped fairly well. Burt's head was full of the mummy, and for
the moment he paid no attention to his chum's remark.

"It's kind of queer," he remarked, sitting down against the wall, "to
think of Ta-En-User meeting us this way! Just think of his trip clear
over from Egypt, and our trip clear over from--"

"Shucks," interrupted the more practical Critch. "I'm thinking of Pongo
right now. Come out of it! We've got to frame up something before Mbopo
gets back."

"I can't see what there is to frame u