"At Panama saw I an emerald greater than a pigeon's egg!" cried one who
had sailed in the _Golden Hind_.

Sir Mortimer laughed. "Why, our very speech grows rich--as did thine
long since, Philip Sidney! And now, Giles Arden, show these stay-at-home
gentlemen the stones the _Bonaventure_ brought in the other day from
that coast we touched at two years agone. If we miss the plate-fleet, my
masters, if we find Cartagena or Santa Marta too strong for us, there is
yet the unconquered land, the Hesperidian garden whence came these
golden apples! Deliver, good dragon!"

He of the mustachios laid side by side upon the board three pieces of
glittering rock, whereat every man bent forward.

"Marcasite?" said one, doubtfully.

"El madre del oro?" suggested another.

"White spar," said Arden, authoritatively, "and containeth of gold ten
pounds to the hundredweight. Moreover--" He sifted down upon the dark
wood beside the stones a thimbleful of dull yellow grains. "The sands of
Pactolus, gentlemen! Sure 'twas in no Grecian river that King Midas
bathed himself!"

Those of the company to whom had never before been exhibited these
samples of imperial riches craned their necks, and the looks of some
were musing and of others keenly eager. The room fell silent, and still
they gazed and gazed at the small heap of glistening stones and those
few grains of gold. They were busy men in the vanguard of a quickened
age, and theirs were its ardors, its Argus-eyed fancy and potent