where I am," said Bastin, helping himself from the
kettle to a fifth pannikin of tea. "Those corpses are very interesting,
but I don't see any use in staring at them again at present. One can
always do that at any time. I have missed Marama once already by being
away in that cave, and I have a lot to say to him about my people; I
don't want to be absent in case he should return."

"To wash up the things, I suppose," said Bickley with a sniff; "or
perhaps to eat the tea-leaves."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I have noticed that these natives have
a peculiar taste for tea-leaves. I think they believe them to be a
medicine, but I don't suppose they would come so far for them, though
perhaps they might in the hope of getting the head of Oro. Anyhow, I am
going to stop here."

"Pray do," said Bickley. "Are you ready, Humphrey?"

I nodded, and he handed to me a felt-covered flask of the non-conducting
kind, filled with boiling water, a tin of preserved milk, and a little
bottle of meat extract of a most concentrated sort. Then, having lit two
of the hurricane lamps and seen that they were full of oil, we started
back up the cave.

Chapter XI. Resurrection

We reached the sepulchre without stopping to look at the parked machines
or even the marvelous statue that stood above it, for what did we care
about machines or statues now? As we approached we were astonished to
hear low and cavernous growlings.

"There is some wild beast in there," said Bickley, halting. "No, by
George! it's Tommy. What can the dog be after?"

We peeped in, and there sure enough was Tommy lying on the top of
the Glittering Lady's coffin and growling his very best with the hair
standing up upon his back. When he saw who it was, however, he jumped
off and frisked round, licking my hand.

"That's very strange," I exclaimed.

"Not stranger than everything else," said Bickley.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Open these coffins," he answered, "beginning with that of the old god,
since I would rather experiment on him. I expect he will crumble into
dust. But if by chance he doesn't I'll jam a little strychnine, mixed
with some other drugs, of which you don't know the names, into one of
his veins and see if anything happens. If it doesn't, it won't hurt him,
and if it does--well, who knows? Now give me a hand."

We went to the left-hand coffin and by inserting the hook on the back of
my knife, of which the real use is to pick stones