"I was still trussed up like a turkey, but I wriggled and squirmed until I got loose. My shoulder was badly torn up," went on Captain Mac, "and I was nigh frantic wi' the pain. A little o' the palm oil helped, but wi' them things around me I thought sure I was crazy. I crawled to the door, an' found I was in the hut inside the ivory zareba.
"The whole business must ha' gone to my head, for I don't remember very well what happened then. I know I went back to the mummy an' saw that his neck was torn open. There was somethin' shinin', and I grabbed at it. Just then I heard somethin' behind me, an' there was the big lion, standin' and lashin' his tail. I remember laughing, then I caught up the lamp an' flung it at him. The oil blazed up as the vessel smashed him fair between the eyes, he gave a roar, and I fainted again.
"Next I remember was Mbopo bending over me. The poor fellow had come to the hut in the mornin' an' found me. It seemed that I had been staked out as a sacrifice to Pongo. This Pongo was a combination o' the lion and ankh. The ankh was the real god, but the lion had taken up livin' in the hut, so the lion was called Pongo and worshipped as the reg'lar deity. In short, whoever had possession o' the ankh could boss the whole country. Pongo, which was the lion, had carried me to the hut. I was in possession o' the hut an' was the first who had ever escaped the sacrifice.
Therefore, I was sacred and in the way o' bein' a god mysel'. I didn't find this all out right off, mind. I stayed in that village for six months.
"I taught Mbopo some English an' learned some pigmy talk. No, I didn't bother none whatever wi' the lion. He showed up later an' took possession o' the hut again. My shoulder was a long time healin' and I guess my nerve was gone for a while. Man, but I wanted to carry off that gold ankh an' that ivory! But the thing was impossible. After six months I got a chance while I was out wi' hunters, and I lit out. I worked my way out by strikin' a bunch of Arabs who treated me white. That's the yarn."
There was a moment of silence. Burt and Critch stared at Montenay in fascination. Mr. Wallace was looking down at the table. Finally he glanced up and spoke, slowly.
"Mac, you said something about proofs."
"I did that." Captain Mac unbuckled his belt, and took a small silk-wrapped package from it. "I told ye that I grabbed something from the mummy. Here it is."
Mr. Wallace unwrapped the package, while the boys leaned over his shoulder in high excitement. From the oiled silk fell out three linked scarabs, set in wrought. Critch gave a gasp, but Mr. Wallace turned over the scarabs and held them closer to the light as he examined their inscriptions.
"Hm!" he exclaimed at length. "Montenay, your proofs are pretty good. This seems to have formed part of a necklace belonging to one Ta-En-User, high priest of Maat. I should say the scarabs belonged to about the Twenty-first Dynasty."