master artist. The statue was about eight inches high, and showed a 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
