“Wait until you get to it!” warned Jimmie.
“I’m listening right now for the low, soft music!” laughed Carl.
“Does any one live there?” asked Jimmie in a moment.
“As the place is thought by the natives to be haunted,” Sam answered, “the probability is that no one has set foot inside the place since the naturalist and myself explored its ruined corridors several weeks ago.”
The boys passed farther on toward the temple, and at last paused on the north side of a little arm of the lake which would necessitate a wide detour to the right.
From the spot where they stood, the walls of the temple glittered as if at sometime in the distant past they had been ornamented with designs in silver and gold. The soft wind of the valley sighed through the openings mournfully, and it required no vigorous exercise of the imagination to turn the sounds into man-made music.
The boys looked at each other significantly.
“Come on, Jimmie,” Carl shouted. “Let’s go and get a front seat. The concert is just about to begin!”
“There is no hurry!” Jimmy answered.
While the three stood viewing the scene, one which never passed from their memory, a tall, stately figure passed out of the entrance to the old temple and moved with dignified leisure toward the margin of the lake.