“It’s not ornamental certainly; but it’ll make a bully souvenir of the trip. What’s in the bag, I wonder?”
“Don’t know, I’ve put it in my pocket. We’ll take a look at it when we get back to camp. Right now our job is to get busy with the axes. They’ll think we’ve run into more trouble if we don’t hurry up.”
Acting on Tom’s suggestion, they were soon making chips fly, and in a short time had wood enough for a cooking fire. The night was too warm for there to be any necessity of a bigger blaze; especially as they meant to resume their journey immediately after the evening meal.
There was so much to be discussed at supper that the boys did not have an opportunity to bring up the subject of their finds till afterward. Then they told of their discoveries, and Jack proudly exhibited his idol. The professor pronounced it to be of ancient workmanship, perhaps the handiwork of some vanished race. Some hieroglyphics were inscribed on its base, but what they stood for the professor, although a man learned in such matters, was unable to decipher. He declared that the characters did not even approximate any known form of hieroglyphics.
“Well, anyhow, he’ll make a fine mascot,” declared Jack; “we’ll call him Billikin and hang him in the front of the flying auto for good luck.”
This was hailed as a good idea, and amidst much laughter Mr. Billikin was secured to one of the forward stanchions of the Wondership.
“But say, how about that bag of yours?” demanded Jack of Tom as soon as the mascot had been triced up.
“Let’s have a look at it right now,” said Tom, pulling it from his pocket.
The pouch was made of some sort of skin. Mildew had all but obscured some markings on it that had apparently once stood out in brilliant colors. It was fringed and evidently had been wrought with much care. Tom shook it and the contents rattled.
“Give you three guesses,” he cried.