"It happened this way," she said excitedly. "Father was painting a
picture up there by the edge of the crater. He left his palette on the
grass to go to the bungalow for some more tubes of colour. While he was
in the house, hunting for the colours which he wanted, I stepped out on
the veranda, and I saw some crows alight near the palette and begin
to stalk about in the grass. One bird walked right over his wet palette;
I stepped out and waved my sun-bonnet to frighten him off, but he had
both feet in a sticky mass of Chinese vermilion, and for a moment was
unable to free himself.
"I almost caught him, but he flapped away over the edge of the crater,
high above the wall of vapour, sailed down onto the crater floor, and
alighted.
"But his feet bothered him; he kept hopping about on the bottom of the
crater, half running, half flying; and finally he took wing and rose up
over the hill.
"As he flew above me, and while I was looking up at his vermilion feet,
something dropped from his claws and nearly struck me. It was that
emerald."
When I had recovered sufficient composure to speak steadily, I took her
beautiful little hand in mine.
"This," said I, "is the most exciting locality I have ever visited for
purposes of scientific research. Within this crater may lie millions of
value in emeralds. You are probably, today, the wealthiest heiress upon
the face of the globe!"
I gave her a winning glance. She smiled, shyly, and blushingly withdrew
her hand.
For several exquisite minutes I sat there beside her in a sort of
heavenly trance. How beautiful she was! How engaging--how sweet--how
modestly appreciative of the man beside her, who had little beside his
scientific learning, his fame, and a kind heart to appeal to such youth
and loveliness as hers!
There was something about her that delicately appealed to me. Sometimes
I pondered what this might be; sometimes I wondered how many emeralds lay
on that floor of sandy gravel below us.
Yes, I loved her. I realised it now. I could even endure her father for
her sake. I should make a good husband. I was quite certain of that.
I turned and gazed upon her, meltingly. But I did not wish to startle
her, so I remained silent, permitting the chaste language of my eyes to
interpret for her what my lips had not yet murmured. It was a brief but
beautiful moment in my life.
"The way to do," said I, "is to trap several dozen crows, smear their
feet with glue, tie a ball of Indian twine to the ankle of every bird,
then liberate them. Some are certain to fly into the crater and try to
scrape the glue off in the sand. Then," I added, triumphantly, "all we
have to do is to haul in our birds and detach the wealth of Midas from
their sticky claws!"
"That is an excellent suggestion," she said gratefully, "but I can do
that after you have gone. All I wanted you to tell me was whether the
stone is a genuine emerald."