"You'll get it easy!"
Jun put the stone down. He took up another, a smaller piece of opal, of even finer quality. The stars were strewn over and over each other in its limpid black pool.
"Nice pattern," he said.
"Yes," Watty Frost murmured.
"She's not as big as the other ... but better pattern," Archie Cross said.
"Reckon you'll get £100 for her too, Jun?"
"Yup!" Jun put down the stone.
Then he held up each stone in turn, and the men gave it the same level, appraising glance. There was no envy in their admiration. In every man's eyes was the same worshipful appreciation of black opal.
Jun was drunk with his luck. His luck, as much as Newton's beer, was in his head this night. He had shown his stones before, but never like this, the strength of his luck.
"How much do you think there is in your packet, Jun?" Archie Cross asked.