CHAPTER

I   wonderful news
II   an unsuspected listener
III   Andy is whitewashed
IV   A perilous flight
V   news from Africa
VI   “Beware the head-hunters!”
VII   tom makes A promise
VIII   eradicate will go
IX   “That looked like Andy!”
X   mysterious passengers
XI   the midnight alarm
XII   into the unknown
XIII   followed
XIV   A weary search
XV   the golden image
XVI   the map on the gold
XVII   the ruined temple
XVIII   finding the tunnel
XIX   the underground river
XX   the city of gold
XXI   the big image
XXII   trapped
XXIII   “Is it A rescue?”
XXIV   the fight
XXV   the escape—­conclusion

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

CHAPTER I

WONDERFUL NEWS

“Letter for you, Tom Swift.”

“Ah, thanks, Mr. Wilson.  This is the first mail I’ve had this week.  You’ve been neglecting me,” and the young inventor took the missive which the Shopton postman handed to him over the gate, against which Tom was leaning one fine, warm Spring day.

“Well, I get around as often as I can, Tom.  You’re not home a great deal, you know.  When you’re not off in your sky racer seeing how much you can beat the birds, you’re either hunting elephants in Africa, or diving down under the ocean, or out in a diamond mine, or some such out-of-the-way place as that.  No wonder you don’t get many letters.  But that one looks as if it had come quite a distance.”

“So it does,” agreed Tom, looking closely at the stamp and postmark.  “What do you make out of it, Mr. Wilson?” and then, just as many other persons do when getting a strange letter, instead of opening it to see from whom it has come, Tom tried to guess by looking at the handwriting, and trying to decipher the faint postmark.  “What does that say?” and the young inventor pointed to the black stamp.

“Hum, looks like Jube—­no, that first letter’s a ‘K’ I guess,” and Mr. Wilson turned it upside down, thinking that would help.

“I made it out a ’G’,” said Tom.

“So it is.  A ’G’—­you’re right.  Gumbo—­Twamba—­that’s what it is—­ Gumba Twamba.  I can make it out now all right.”

“Well, where, for the love of my old geography, is Gumba Twamba?” asked the lad with a laugh.

“You’ve got me, Tom.  Must be in Sweden, or Holland, or some of those foreign countries.  I don’t often handle letters from there, so I can’t say.  Why don’t you open your letter and find out who its from?”

“That’s what I ought to have done at first.”  Quickly Tom ripped open the much worn and frayed envelope, through the cracks of which some parts of the letter already could be seen, showing that it had traveled many thousand miles before it got to the village of Shopton, in New York State.

“Well, I’ve got to be traveling on,” remarked the postman, as Tom started to read the mysterious letter.  “I’m late as it is.  You can tell me the news when I pass again, Tom.”