"They're nice stones, aren't they?" Paul demanded, sorting over the opals he had spread out on the table. He held up a piece of green potch with a sun-flash through it.
"My oath!" George Woods exclaimed.
"But where's the big beaut.?" Archie Cross asked, looking over the stones with George.
"Oh, Jun's got her," Paul replied. "Jun!" he called, "the boys want to see the big stone."
"Right!" Jun swung across to the table. Several of the men by the bar followed him. "She's all right," he said.
He sat down, pulled a shabby leather wallet from his pocket, opened it, and took out a roll of dirty flannel; he undid the flannel carefully, and spread the stones on the table. There were several pieces of opal in the packet. The men, who had seen them before separately, uttered soft oaths of admiration and surprise when they saw all the opals together. Two knobbies were as big as almonds, and looked like black almonds, fossilised, with red fire glinting through their green and gold; a large flat stone had stars of red, green, amethyst, blue and gold shifting over and melting into each other; and several smaller stones, all good stuff, showed smouldering fire in depths of green and blue and gold-lit darkness.
Jun held the biggest of the opals at arm's length from the light of the hanging lamp. The men followed his movement, the light washing their faces as it did the stone.
"There she goes!" Paul breathed.
"What have you got on her?"
"A hundred pounds, or thereabouts."