"Palm oil!" he cried. "Here's a light, Burt! Put a strip of cloth in each of these and we'll have elegant lamps."
In another moment each of the three improvised lamps was burning faintly, while the fire also flared up. As it did so Burt gave an exclamation.
"Say, I clear forgot about the mummy! There she is, Critch."
He pointed to the wall opposite the entrance, holding up his "lamp." Both walked across the rubbish-littered floor, which smelt most frightfully. Before them, standing erect against the wall, was a large wooden mummy-case. Most of its paint was gone long since, only a few faint traces of gilding remaining to show what it must once have been. Beside this lay an object that brought a whistle of amazement from Critch.
"That's Pongo, Burt! The golden ankh, sure's you're born!"
The boys looked down in awe at this relic of an ancient people. About four feet long and nearly as thick as Burt's wrist, the symbol of the Goddess of Truth gleamed up with a ruddy yellow color from the dirt that half covered it. Fascinated by the sight, the boys stared in silence until at last Critch uttered a sigh.
"Well, we're wastin' time, Burt. We got to plan out that trap."
Burt turned away from the two relics, and threw some dry sticks on the fire. There was an opening in the center of the roof through which the smoke escaped fairly well. Burt's head was full of the mummy, and for the moment he paid no attention to his chum's remark.
"It's kind of queer," he remarked, sitting down against the wall, "to think of Ta-En-User meeting us this way! Just think of his trip clear over from Egypt, and our trip clear over from—"
"Shucks," interrupted the more practical Critch. "I'm thinking of Pongo right now. Come out of it! We've got to frame up something before Mbopo gets back."