He caught one up and it was heavy. He clanked two together
and the mellow, bell-like sound had the golden note.
"Solid gold," he muttered. And as something upon one of the
vessels--it was a drinking goblet of ornate design--caught the light
and shone back at him like imprisoned fire, "Encrusted with precious
stones!"
He put the things down and looked further. There was a big chest. As
his foot struck it it burst asunder and tumbled its contents to the
floor. From the disordered heap there shone forth from countless
places the colorful glow of jewels. He passed to another chest, a
smaller one placed as in a position of honor upon a square tablet of
rock. He held his torch close and looked in; he thrust in his hand and
withdrew it filled with pearls. Even he, no connoisseur like Barlow,
would have staked his life on their genuineness. They were of many
sizes but more large ones among them than small; their soft, rich
loveliness dimmed even those of Zoraida's wearing.
"A man could carry a million dollars out of here in his hands!"
He went on. But what he held in his hand he thrust into his pocket as
he went. The remembrance of Zoraida's rattlesnakes came to him
abruptly. Thus he moved with renewed caution and thus he was saved
from a misadventure. For even so he almost stepped to a fall. Between
two heaps of tumbled articles was a square hole, sheer and black,
several feet across.
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