"No glass! no glass!" earnestly asserted the Cingalee. "White sapphire, goodie stone. You try," he added, as a final proof of his honesty; "you tramp so." He placed the stone under his slippered foot, and pressed ever so lightly. "You try," he implored, handing the stone to Bob, whom he now regarded as the one obstacle to the sale of his treasure. "If glass it break."
"The poor beggar seems honest," said Jack, feeling quite sorry for the man. "How much?" he asked.
"Five pounds, master."
"I don't want the stone," said Jack, "and anyhow I haven't got five pounds in my pocket. I'll give you one pound for it," he concluded jokingly. Before he had fully realized it the gem was his, and the late owner was exhorting him to secrecy concerning the sacrificial price it had commanded. "Other men no like me selling so cheap," he explained, then vanished hurriedly as Mackay entered.
"And so you've bought a sapphire," he said with a chuckle, when Jack proudly displayed his purchase. "How much did ye gie for it? Sixpence?"
"Isn't it genuine?" asked Bob. "I said it was glass; but he asked me to stamp on it."
"Ay, ay, that's an old trick; he chanced ye no' takin' him at his word." He placed the doubtful stone beneath the toe of his shoe, and in an instant nothing remained but powdered glass. Jack's dismay was great, and noting it, Mackay patted the boy cheerily on the back. "It's a grand thing to have faith in human nature," he said kindly. "And I'd rather see you mak' a mistake that way than the other way. A' the same when you go oot into the world it's surprising how much deceit you see."
After a stay of a day and a half the Mongolia entered upon the longest phase of her journey across the equator and down by the north-western coast of Australia to Fremantle. Several more passengers had been left at Colombo including those bound for the farther East, who continued their journey by connecting boat, so that the ship's party was now very small indeed. To the boys' surprise the heat experienced when crossing the line was nothing compared with that already felt in the Red Sea; but Mackay was not wanting with his explanation.
"The desert sands on both sides o' the Red Sea absorb the heat and intensify it," explained he, "so that the winds that blow from either east or west are like blasts oot o' a furnace, while here the winds are tempered by passing over hundreds o' miles o' sea."