to
the hut in the mornin' an' found me. It seemed that I had been staked
out as a sacrifice to Pongo. This Pongo was a combination o' the lion
and ankh. The ankh was the real god, but the lion had taken up livin' in
the hut, so the lion was called Pongo and worshipped as the reg'lar
deity. In short, whoever had possession o' the ankh could boss the whole
country. Pongo, which was the lion, had carried me to the hut. I was in
possession o' the hut an' was the first who had ever escaped the
sacrifice. Therefore, I was sacred and in the way o' bein' a god
mysel'. I didn't find this all out right off, mind. I stayed in that
village for six months.

"I taught Mbopo some English an' learned some pigmy talk. No, I didn't
bother none whatever wi' the lion. He showed up later an' took
possession o' the hut again. My shoulder was a long time healin' and I
guess my nerve was gone for a while. Man, but I wanted to carry off that
gold ankh an' that ivory! But the thing was impossible. After six months
I got a chance while I was out wi' hunters, and I lit out. I worked my
way out by strikin' a bunch of Arabs who treated me white. That's the
yarn."

There was a moment of silence. Burt and Critch stared at Montenay in
fascination. Mr. Wallace was looking down at the table. Finally he
glanced up and spoke, slowly.

"Mac, you said something about proofs."

"I did that." Captain Mac unbuckled his belt, and took a small
silk-wrapped package from it. "I told ye that I grabbed something from
the mummy. Here it is."

Mr. Wallace unwrapped the package, while the boys leaned over his
shoulder in high excitement. From the oiled silk fell out three linked
scarabs, set in wrought gold. Critch gave a gasp, but Mr. Wallace turned
over the scarabs and held them closer to the light as he examined their
inscriptions.

"Hm!" he exclaimed at length. "Montenay, your proofs are pretty good.
This seems to have formed part of a necklace belonging to one
Ta-En-User, high priest of Maat. I should say the scarabs belonged to
about the Twenty-first Dynasty."

"Ye're no child yersel'," chuckled Captain Mac in delight. "That's just
what they told me at the British Museum. Now, here's another queer
thing.

"Ye know more about old Egypt than I do, Wallace. From what I could
learn from Mbopo, it seemed that long ago these white pigmies migrated
from the east to where they are now. On their way they struck a
half-ruined "City of the Gods," as Mbopo called