Chapter Thirty One.
An Explosion.
“Yes,” said the doctor, as he scanned some little specks of the pale yellow glistening metal, and the two blacks crept silently closer, “this is gold, sure enough.”
“I don’t know much about these things,” said Sir James, examining the big flake carefully, “but I didn’t think that it was possible to find gold in cement. If it had been quartz rock, doctor—”
“Ah, you are thinking of gold ore, Sir James,” said the doctor, taking out his knife and opening it. “These are scraps of manufactured gold.”
“Why, who could have manufactured them,” said Mark sharply.
“We must go to history for that,” replied the doctor, “and the only people I can suggest would be the Phoenicians; but I may be quite wrong, for gold has been searched for and used by most ancient people.—Allow me, Sir James;” and he took back the piece of cement and with the point of his knife picked out a little rivet, which he tried with a sharp blade. “Yes,” he said; “pure gold. You see it’s quite soft. Why, I can cut it almost as easily as a piece of lead. Here’s another little rivet. I should say this has been a piece cut off a length of gold wire.”
“But what would they want such little bits as that for?” asked Dean.
“For the purpose I name, as rivets, to fasten down gold plates. There are more and more of them here—and look at this corner where the cement has broken. Here’s a scrap of thin hammered plate of gold. Why, boys, we have come to the place where our little friend yonder must have obtained his gold wire ornaments.”