Tom Swift in the Land of Wonders: The Underground Search for the Idol of Gold

A WONDERFUL STORY

Tom Swift, who had been slowly looking through the pages of a magazine, in the contents of which he seemed to be deeply interested, turned the final folio, ruffled the sheets back again to look at a certain map and drawing, and then, slapping the book down on a table before him, with a noise not unlike that of a shot, exclaimed: 

“Well, that is certainly one wonderful story!”

“What’s it about, Tom?” asked his chum, Ned Newton.  “Something about inside baseball, or a new submarine that can be converted into an airship on short notice?”

“Neither one, you—­you unscientific heathen,” answered Tom, with a laugh at Ned.  “Though that isn’t saying such a machine couldn’t be invented.”

“I believe you—­that is if you got on its trail,” returned Ned, and there was warm admiration in his voice.

“As for inside baseball, or outside, for that matter, I hardly believe I’d be able to tell third base from the second base, it’s so long since I went to a game,” proceeded Tom.  “I’ve been too busy on that new airship stabilizer dad gave me an idea for.  I’ve been working too hard, that’s a fact.  I need a vacation, and maybe a good baseball game——­”

He stopped and looked at the magazine he had so hastily slapped down.  Something he had read in it seemed to fascinate him.

“I wonder if it can possibly be true,” he went on.  “It sounds like the wildest dream of a professional sleep-walker; and yet, when I stop to think, it isn’t much worse than some of the things we’ve gone through with, Ned.”

“Say, for the love of rice-pudding! will you get down to brass tacks and strike a trial balance?  What are you talking of, anyhow?  Is it a joke?”

“A joke?”

“Yes.  What you just read in that magazine which seems to cause you so much excitement.”

“Well, it may be a joke; and yet the professor seems very much in earnest about it,” replied Tom.  “It certainly is one wonderful story!”

“So you said before.  Come on—­the `fillium’ is busted.  Splice it, or else put in a new reel and on with the show.  I’d like to know what’s doing.  What professor are you talking of?”

“Professor Swyington Bumper.”

“Swyington Bumper?” and Ned’s voice showed that his memory was a bit hazy.

“Yes.  You ought to remember him.  He was on the steamer when I went down to Peru to help the Titus Brothers dig the big tunnel.  That plotter Waddington, or some of his tools, dropped a bomb where it might have done us some injury, but Professor Bumper, who was a fellow passenger, on his way to South America to look for the lost city of Pelone, calmly picked up the bomb, plucked out the fuse, and saved us from bad injuries, if not death.  And he was as cool about it as an ice-cream cone.  Surely you remember!”

“Swyington Bumper!  Oh, yes, now I remember him,” said Ned Newton.  “But what has he got to do with a wonderful story?  Has he written more about the lost city of Pelone?  If he has I don’t see anything so very wonderful in that.”

“There isn’t,” agreed Tom.  “But this isn’t that,” and Tom picked up the magazine and leafed it to find the article he had been reading.

“Let’s have a look at it,” suggested Ned.  “You act as though you might be vitally interested in it.  Maybe you’re thinking of joining forces with the professor again, as you did when you dug the big tunnel.”

“Oh, no.  I haven’t any such idea,” Tom said.  “I’ve got enough work laid out now to keep me in Shopton for the next year.  I have no notion of going anywhere with Professor Bumper.  Yet I can’t help being impressed by this,” and, having found the article in the magazine to which he referred, he handed it to his chum.

“Why, it’s by Bumper himself!” exclaimed Ned.

“Yes.  Though there’s nothing remarkable in that, seeing that he is constantly contributing articles to various publications or writing books.  It’s the story itself that’s so wonderful.  To save you the trouble of wading through a lot of scientific detail, which I know you don’t care about, I’ll tell you that the story is about a queer idol of solid gold, weighing many pounds, and, in consequence, of great value.”

“Of solid gold you say?” asked Ned eagerly.

“That’s it.  Got on your banking air already,” Tom laughed.  “To sum it up for you—­notice I use the word `sum,’ which is very appropriate for a bank—­the professor has got on the track of another lost or hidden city.  This one, the name of which doesn’t appear, is in the Copan valley of Honduras, and——­”

“Copan,” interrupted Ned.  “It sounds like the name of some new floor varnish.”

“Well, it isn’t, though it might be,” laughed Tom.  “Copan is a city, in the Department of Copan, near the boundary between Honduras and Guatemala.  A fact I learned from the article and not because I remembered my geography.”

“I was going to say,” remarked Ned with a smile, “that you were coming it rather strong on the school-book stuff.”

“Oh, it’s all plainly written down there,” and Tom waved toward the magazine at which Ned was looking.  “As you’ll see, if you take the trouble to go through it, as I did, Copan is, or maybe was, for all I know, one of the most important centers of the Mayan civilization.”

“What’s Mayan?” asked Ned.  “You see I’m going to imbibe my information by the deductive rather than the excavative process,” he added with a laugh.

“I see,” laughed Tom.  “Well, Mayan refers to the Mayas, an aboriginal people of Yucatan.  The Mayas had a peculiar civilization of their own, thousands of years ago, and their calendar system was so involved——­”

“Never mind about dates,” again interrupted Ned.  “Get down to brass tacks.  I’m willing to take your word for it that there’s a Copan valley in Honduras.  But what has your friend Professor Bumper to do with it?”

“This.  He has come across some old manuscripts, or ancient document records, referring to this valley, and they state, according to this article he has written for the magazine, that somewhere in the valley is a wonderful city, traces of which have been found twenty to forty feet below the surface, on which great trees are growing, showing that the city was covered hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago.”

“But where does the idol of gold come in?”

“I’m coming to that,” said Tom.  “Though, if Professor Bumper has his way, the idol will be coming out instead of coming in.”

“You mean he wants to get it and take it away from the Copan valley, Tom?”

“That’s it, Ned.  It has great value not only from the amount of pure gold that is in it, but as an antique.  I fancy the professor is more interested in that aspect of it.  But he’s written a wonderful story, telling how he happened to come across the ancient manuscripts in the tomb of some old Indian whose mummy he unearthed on a trip to Central America.

“Then he tells of the trouble he had in discovering how to solve the key to the translation code; but when he did, he found a great story unfolded to him.

“This story has to do with the hidden city, and tells of the ancient civilization of those who lived in the Copan valley thousands of years ago.  The people held this idol of gold to be their greatest treasure, and they put to death many of other tribes who sought to steal it.”

“Whew!” whistled Ned.  “That is some yarn.  But what is Professor Bumper going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.  The article seems to be written with an idea of interesting scientists and research societies, so that they will raise money to conduct a searching expedition.

“Perhaps by this time the party may be organized—­this magazine is several months old.  I have been so busy on my stabilizer patent that I haven’t kept up with current literature.  Take it home and read it!  Ned.  That is if you’re through telling me about my affairs,” for Ned, who had formerly worked in the Shopton bank, had recently been made general financial man-ager of the interests of Tom and his father.  The two were inventors and proverbially poor business men, though they had amassed a fortune.

“Your financial affairs are all right, Tom,” said Ned.  “I have just been going over the books, and I’ll submit a detailed report later.”

The telephone bell rang and Tom picked up the instrument from the desk.  As he answered in the usual way and then listened a moment, a strange look came over his face.

“Well, this certainly is wonderful!” he exclaimed, in much the same manner as when he had finished reading the article about the idol.  “It certainly is a strange coincidence,” he added, speaking in an aside to Ned while he himself still listened to what was being told to him over the telephone wire.