Here we seated ourselves upon the grass, and I knitted my brows and fixed
my eyes upon this curious phenomenon, striving to discover some reason
for it.
Except for the vapour and the fires, there was nothing whatever volcanic
about this spectacle, or in the surroundings.
From where I sat I could see that the bed of fire which encircled the
crater; and the wall of vapour which crowned the flames, were about three
hundred feet wide. Of course this barrier was absolutely impassable.
There was no way of getting through it into the bottom of the crater.
A slight pressure from Miss Blythe's fingers engaged my attention; I
turned toward her, and she said:
"There is one more thing about which I have not told you. I feel a little
guilty, because _that_ is the real reason I asked you to come here."
"What is it?"
"I think there are emeralds on the floor of that crater."
"Emeralds!"
"I _think_ so." She felt in the ruffled pocket of her apron, drew out a
fragment of mineral, and passed it to me.
I screwed a jeweler's glass into my eye and examined it in astonished
silence. It was an emerald; a fine, large, immensely valuable stone, if
my experience counted for anything.
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