Jack drew a long breath.
"Yes; once. Great Scott, what a gem! You fellows can't conceive its beauty. It is as large as a guinea-hen's egg. Milky white, and shooting rays of blue and green, and red and yellow like fireworks. It belonged to Montezuma."
"I thought those everlasting Aztecs would come in," said Philip smiling. "Well, Jack, and what about this stone?"
"Ah, that's a long story."
"What of that? The night's young, and the liquor's plentiful."
"I don't mind sitting up all night, if the story is interesting. Start at once Jack, and don't keep us any longer in suspense. I hate wire-drawn agonies."
"A year ago I was pottering about at Zacatecas, over a wretched little railway that wasn't worth bothering about. Being hard up, I went in for it in default of something better; but meanwhile kept my eyes open to see what I could drop into. After some months, I heard that the Republic of Cholacaca was about to open up the country with railways, so I thought I'd go there to get a job."
"Where is Cholacaca?"
"Down Yucatan way—not far from Guatemala."
"Oh, I know; looks on to Campeche Bay."