Every particle of leather had disappeared, doubtless
eaten by Ska. No boots remained, if the man had worn boots, but
there were several buckles scattered about suggesting that a great
part of his trappings had been of leather, while just beneath the
bones of one hand lay a metal cylinder about eight inches long and
two inches in diameter. As Tarzan picked it up he saw that it had
been heavily lacquered and had withstood the slight ravages of
time so well as to be in as perfect a state of preservation today
as it had been when its owner dropped into his last, long sleep
perhaps centuries ago.
As he examined it he discovered that one end was closed with
a friction cover which a little twisting force soon loosened and
removed, revealing within a roll of parchment which the ape-man
removed and opened, disclosing a number of age-yellowed sheets
closely written upon in a fine hand in a language which he guessed
to be Spanish but which he could not decipher. Upon the last sheet
was a roughly drawn map with numerous reference points marked upon
it, all unintelligible to Tarzan, who, after a brief examination
of the papers, returned them to their metal case, replaced the top
and was about to toss the little cylinder to the ground beside the
mute remains of its former possessor when some whim of curiosity
unsatisfied prompted him to slip it into the quiver with his arrows,
though as he did so it was with the grim thought that possibly
centuries hence it might again come to the sight of man beside his
own bleached bones.
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