“My people kept elk,” the Ayuti replied. “Threescore there were, whereon rode the body-guard of the king. Muswani is the last, as I am the last of the Ayutis. But come, let us move forward again.” Into a third chamber they went, and in this were great stone tanks, filled to the brim with clear, sparkling water. “Marvellous!” Mervyn cried, as he examined the massive masonry of the tanks and the conduits which fed them. “What an intelligent race these people must have been! Whence comes the water?” he asked of Chenobi. “I know not,” was the reply, “save that it comes underground.” Out of the tank chamber the Ayuti led them, by a small doorway, into a narrow passage. This they followed for some distance, ever descending as they moved on, with the temperature steadily rising each moment. At length they emerged into another vault-like chamber, and a cry of astonishment burst from the four explorers. Along one side of this hall a number of metal doors were set in the rough-hewn rock which formed the wall. The sight of these, together with the intense heat of the place, quickly revealed to the comrades the purpose for which the chamber had once been used. It was the ancient cooking-place of the city. “The heat comes from the gulf of fire,” explained the Ayuti, as he flung open one of the oven doors that his friends might examine the interior. “It’s a cute dodge,” the Yankee drawled admiringly. “I assume this rock forms the wall of the fire gulf, an’ they get their heat natural-like, without havin’ to stoke up.” “I wondered where Chenobi managed to dry his meat,” the scientist mused; “the thing’s clear now. Truly these Ayutis had no lack of inventive genius!” Retracing their steps to the outer door, the little band crossed the square and entered one of the surrounding buildings, which--so Chenobi informed them--had been the palace of the kings. Here, as elsewhere--save for the temple, which appeared well preserved--time had laid its destroying hand, but there still remained much of the former beauty of the place. The pillars of its bold front were covered with carving that would not have disgraced the exterior of a cathedral, and the broad flight of steps leading up to it, though cracked and broken in places, still added somewhat to the dignity of its appearance.