denly cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my pocketbook, but"
"I have it!" said Tom quietly, taking from the envelope a piece of paper covered with rough marks. "It isn't very good, but"
"Bless my very existence!" cried the excitable man. "But you're not going to let such a chance as this slip past; are you Tom? Are you going to hunt for that buried city of gold?"
"I certainly am," answered the young inventor quietly.
"Tom! You're not going off on another wild expedition?" asked Mr. Swift anxiously.
"I'm afraid I'll have to," answered his son with a smile.
"Go? Of course he'll go!" burst out Mr. Damon. "And I'm going with him; can't I, Tom?"
"Surely. The reason Mr. Illingway sent me the letter was to tell me about the city of gold. He thought, after my travels in Africa, that to find a buried city in Mexico would be no trouble at all, I suppose. Anyhow he suggests that I make the attempt, and"
"Oh, but, Tom, just when I am perfecting my gyroscope!" exclaimed Mr. Swift. "I need your help."
