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32 "Open!" shouted Anderson, "I should say not. Hardy and I hammered that pile of stone and we couldn’t make a dent in it. We never thought of trying the top. Finally Hardy slipped, a little dynamite under the column and we followed you down the stairway."

By degrees I got my strength back.

"Ready for some big news?" Anderson said, presently.

I nodded.

"All right, then. Hang on now. We came to South America to get scientific data, didn’t we?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, that’s all gone by the board now," went on the young man. "We're going to explore the Caverns of the Ataruipe."

The "Caverns of the Ataruipe" meant precisely nothing to me.

"Listen to me," he explained. "The Ataruipe are a lost race of people. Hardy picked up the dope during the time he hung around Rio; he says the archives of the Brazilian government are full of old maps purporting to give the location of treasure; some of these maps were made in the fifteenth century and actually purport to show where the ElDorado may be found.

"It is said that in earlier days expedition after expedition was fitted out and despatched to find the 'Gilded King,' a chap whose people had such quantities of gold that they built their houses of the solid metal. But the best story of all is that of the Caverns of the Ataruipe, a race that lived more than a thousand years ago, and came from Asia; they were wonderful goldsmiths, possessing untold quantities of gems and all the precious metals. The legend is that the Ataruipe used to come in large numbers down the rivers to the coast to trade, scattering among the natives quantities of gold pieces of exquisite design such as had never before been seen; but that after a certain date no one ever saw them again; nor has anyone ever been able to locate the particular part of the country where they resided."

As the young man ran on a light began to dawn in my mind.

"And de Silva?" I interjected.

"Sure! You’ve struck it!" was Anderson's swift response. "Hardy says the officials long have felt that the Ataruipe came from hereabouts, and Hardy claims the Spaniard, representing some of them, suspects our expedition of searching for the treasure."

"Were the cuneiform inscriptions on the stone column examined?"

"Certainly," said Anderson. "Hardy got all that. I never saw him so interested before. He swears we have struck it rich."

Suddenly I realized that my throat was burning with thirst.

"How about some water?" I asked.

In a moment a brimming cup of the precious fluid was at my lips. I drank greedily and, I fear, with little thought as to the source of supply.

While we were yet discussing the altered aspect of our situation a voice hailed us, and we turned to discover Hardy just emerging from the hole that gaped where the triangular stone column had stood. Following him came Van Dusee and the rest of the party.

When all were safely out Hardy touched a match to the long fuse he had laid from a mine placed under the obstruction in the tunnel, which had prevented further progress. There came a dull boom, a whirl of air, and then all was still.

"Now, sir," announced Hardy. "In the morning we shall see what we shall see."

There was little sleep for any of us that night, and before dawn we were ready for the descent. My crippled arm made the way arduous for me, but it would have been doubly hard had not young Anderson lavished on me so splendidly his surplus strength. Eagerly our party trailed along that tunnel, led by Hardy and Van Dusee.

The dynamite had done its work well, as the passageway, which ever continued to descend, was entirely cleared. After journeying, as near as we could judge, about three-quarters of a mile, we came to a turn which appeared to be carrying us slowly upward and almost back in the direction from which we came.

I noted that our candles were burning brightly and that the air remained surprisingly fresh. There was little conversation. Once Hardy spoke abruptly to the halfbreed Gomez, who pressed forward a trifle precipitately.

The way grew suddenly light and I had about decided that the other end of the mysterious tunnel would terminate at the surface, when there came a cry from ahead.

"At last!" shouted Van Dusee.

We hurried forward, breathless with interest, and found ourselves confronted by a high but very narrow stile, consisting of six steps of some twenty-four inches each, and glaring down, with jaws wide-open and huge paws outstretched immediately over the apex, was a towering sculptured monster with brilliant green eyes.

The sight of that crouching beast, obviously placed there as a guard, was one to appall the stoutest heart. In turn, we passed under the stupendous overhanging paws, all save Gomez, making way with a display of confidence that we were far from feeling.

In a moment our blinking eyes beheld that for which we came: a gigantic cavern, nearly light as day. I think the wonder of that moment, as I became accustomed to the peculiar radiance of the light and my eyes took in the many evidences of an extinct, yet highly cultivated, life, will never leave me.

Row on row of seats in the form of a huge amphitheater lay in cathedral silence before our fascinated gaze. At the sides there extended beautifully-cut galleries, hewn out of the solid crystal rock and giving mute testimony of a civilization at least as ancient as that of the Greeks. Here and there the fresco-work was interrupted to-give place to heroic-sized figures in pure white marble as marvelously sculptured as anything that ever left the mallet of Praxiteles. There were scores of them!

High above, I was interested to note that the ceiling was of the same rock-formation that had crystal clearness, which accounted for the plentitude of light, as I was certain we were not more than a hundred feet below the surface.

Slowly we began a circuit of that wonder-home of a lost people. To the right lay a vaulted passage, and we came presently to that. It was darker here, and young Anderson and I, detaching ourselves from the rest of the party, made our way along it. We came soon to a circular series of highly ornamented chambers. Anderson was slightly in advance of me, and as he peered into the central and larger one of these I heard him draw in his breath sharply.

"Look at that!" he exclaimed, awe-struck.

My eyes followed his into the beautifully tapestried room, and there, seated in a high-backed, canopied, thronelike chair, extravagantly adorned with glistening jewels, was the figure of a man!

He was apparently in the full vigor of existence. The cast of his face was Mongolian. And he was smiling!

It was too lifelike! We drew back.

Then the certainty that he could not be living forced itself home; and we entered that sacrosanct interior. Scores of highly-colored tapestries were suspended from the walls, the exposed portions of which showed mural decorations finer than any I had ever seen before and which, in tint and conception, were essentially Oriental.

Closer view of the man who smiled at us showed a skin texture which even the