“I figured out a trick,” chuckled Nara, “that made them think I was El Dorado himself, the original Golden Boy in person. So they took Lew Kirby and me up to the mine, the same way they’re going now.”
Single file, the Wai Wais were climbing steps cut in a cliff, gripping liana vines as handrails to balance the weight of their packs. As Biff began the climb, the bearers looked like big, bulging beetles crawling toward the skyline. One by one, they dropped from sight as did the others in the party. Biff learned the reason, when he reached a slanted ledge, like a niche hacked in the cliff, and found the Wai Wais squatting there.
Kamuka came just behind Biff, then others of the party, and finally Joe Nara. Evidently, the Wai Wais were awaiting him, for they began an odd chant that included the words, “El Dorado—El Dorado—” and continued as the shock-haired prospector strode past them.
Nara paused where the ledge burrowed at a slant into the cliff and beckoned for everyone to follow, which they did. They entered a gloomy mine shaft, so low that all members of the party had to stoop, except the boys. The Wai Wai bearers, already bending under their burdens, followed the route automatically as though the passage had been cut to their size.
Daylight showed where the shaft opened into a great cavern. There, the sun shone through cracks and other openings in the ceiling. It glinted on chunky rock walls that fairly burned with vivid golden yellow.
All the tales that Biff had ever heard of hidden treasure had suddenly become real. This was a wonderland of wealth, with glittering side shafts going deeper into the mountain, promising new finds for anyone who followed them. Kamuka, awed by the yellow glitter, asked in breathless tone:
“How much you think this worth, Biff? A million cruzeiro—maybe?”
“A lot more, if it’s gold ore,” returned Biff. “But it’s worth practically nothing if it is simply yellow quartz. A lot of that is found in Brazil, in places easier to reach than this. What’s just as bad, it may be fool’s gold.”
“Fool gold? What is that?”
“A mineral called pyrite,” exclaimed Biff, “usually iron, mixed with sulphur. It often fools people who think that it is gold. But it is more the color of brass than gold, and it leaves a green streak when you rub it on something smooth.”