There was a rough pick on the ground, and many junks of quartz. Roldan
struck and rubbed two pieces together. In a moment his palm was filled
with jagged pieces of yellow metal. He blew on them lovingly, then put
them in his pocket.
"Dios de mi alma!" gasped Rafael, whose eyes were bulging from his head.
"It is as beautiful as the stars of the sky,--the stars in the milky
way with the film over them."
"But we need no more stars," said Adan. "We shall take away our pockets
full, but what shall we do with it? Surely this was not made to rot with
the earth. But it is too small for what you call money, if that is so
big as you say, Roldan. It would make fine nails for a church door."
"Now is not the time to think what you will do with it," said Roldan.
"It is enough that we have it to get. Much is very loose in the crystal.
Rub free all that you can, and fill every pocket. We will take all we
can carry away, and come again and again. Some day, when we are men,
perhaps, we will find a use for it. I for one do not believe that
anything that makes you love it can do harm. Does not the Church teach
us to love all things? Now let us work and not talk.
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