Plosh!
“Water!” I cried. “Why, we’ve found the well.”
“Hurrah!” cried Denham; “well done us!” and he stepped back to where I had kicked out the piece of broken stone, and was about to throw another piece down, when, as the light from above fell upon it, I snatched it from his hand.
“Don’t do that,” he cried angrily. “I want to judge how deep the place is.”
“Don’t throw that,” I said huskily.
“Why not?”
“It isn’t a well.”
“What is it, then?”
“Look at this piece of stone,” I said, and I held the under part upward so that the light fell upon two or three scale-like grains and a few fine yellowish-green threads which ran through it. “It’s an ancient mine, and this is gold.”
“Right!” cried Denham excitedly. “Then that old place back there with the chimney is the old smelting-furnace.”