man, dressed in flowing robes, seated crosslegged on a sort
of raised pedestal. On the head was a crown, many pointed and the
face beneath it showed calm dignity like that of a superior being.
In one extended hand was a round ball, with lines on it to show the
shape of the earth, though only the two American continents
appeared. In the other hand was what might be tables of stone, a
book, or something to represent law-giving authority.

"How much?" asked Tom.

"No sell," was the monotonous answer.

"Five hundred dollars," offered our hero.

"No sell."

"One thousand dollars."

"No sell."

"Why is it so valuable to you?" Tom wanted to know.

"We have him for many years. Bad luck come if he go." Then the
Mexican went on to explain that the image had been in his family for
many generations, and that once, when it had been taken by an enemy,
death and poverty followed until the statue was recovered. He said
he would never part with it.

"Where did it come from?" asked Tom, and he cared more about this
than he did about buying the image.

"Far, far off," said the Mexican. "No man know. I no know--my father
he no know--his father's father no know. Too many years back--many
years."

He motioned to the woman to take the statue away, and Tom and his
friend realized that little more could be learned. The young
inventor stretched out his hand with an involuntary motion, and the
Mexican understood. He spoke to the woman and she handed the image
to Tom. The Mexican had recognized his desire for a moment's closer
inspection and had granted it.

"Jove! It's as heavy as lead!" exclaimed Tom. "And solid gold."

"Isn't it hollow up the middle?" asked Ned. "Look on the underside,
Tom."

His chum did so. As he turned the image over to look at the base he
had all he could do not to utter a cry of surprise. For there,
rudely scratched on the plain surface of the gold, was what was
unmistakably a map. And it was a map showing the location of the
ruined temple--the temple and the country surrounding it--the
ancient city of Poltec, and the map was plain enough so that Tom
could recognize part of the route over which they had traveled.

But, better than all, was a tiny arrow, something like the compass
mark on modern maps. And this arrow pointed straight at the ruins of
the temple, and the direction indicated was due west from the
village where our travelers now were. Tom Swift had found out what
he wanted to know.

With