“Did he do it?” came from Bob, who was listening eagerly.
“No. Unfortunately, he was taken ill with a fever as soon as he got back to civilization, and he died shortly afterward.”
“Too bad,” murmured Jerry. “It would have been a great thing to have given to the world news of such a place in Mexico. It’s all lost now.”
“Not all,” said the professor, in a queer voice.
“Why not? Didn’t you say your friend died?”
“Yes; but before he expired he told me the story and gave me the map.”
“Where is it?” asked Nestor, sitting up and dropping his pipe in his excitement.
“There!” exclaimed the professor, extending a piece of paper, which he had brought forth from his possessions.
Eagerly, they all bent forward to examine the map in the light of the camp-fire. The drawing was crude enough, and showed that the buried city lay to the east of the chain of Sierra Madre Mountains, and about five hundred miles to the north of the City of Mexico.