"Here is the hundred dollars, Don Jose," said Pedro, handing the gold to
Wiles with a decidedly brusque intimation that the services and presence
of a stranger were no longer required.

Wiles took the money with a gracious smile and a wink that sent Pedro's
heart into his boots, and was turning away, when a cry from Manuel
stopped him. "The pot,--the pot,--it has leaked! look! behold! see!"

He had been cleaning away the crumbled fragments of the furnace to get
ready for breakfast, and had disclosed a shining pool of QUICKSILVER!

Wiles started, cast a rapid glance around the group, saw in a flash that
the metal was unknown to them,--and then said quietly:

"It is not silver."

"Pardon, Senor, it is, and still molten." Wiles stooped and ran his
fingers through the shining metal.

"Mother of God,--what is it then?--magic?"

"No, only base metal." But here, Concho, emboldened by Wiles's
experiment, attempted to seize a handful of the glistening mass, that
instantly broke through his fingers in a thousand tiny spherules, and
even sent a few globules up his shirt sleeves, until he danced around in
mingled fear and childish pleasure.

"And it is not worth the taking?" queried Pedro of Wiles.