edge of a void. The sound of the water had deadened somewhat and Larkin's syllables came back in a distant echo. They appeared to have entered the hollow core of the butte.
Stone switched on his torch and the two rays swept the place. First, down to a floor fifty feet below them, then up, farther than the stored electricity could penetrate, and then across to where something shone ghostly and glittering.
"Gawd! Look at it!"
The spectacle seemed to emerge slowly from the gloom as if it gathered light from the two torches, a great ghostly wall of quartz or marble, milky-white, with numberless studs and points and snaky lines that gleamed and twinkled as the beams shifted. It was the Madre d'Ore! The Mother of Gold! A portion of the great mother-lode whose discovery was the dream of every miner!
They gasped as they gazed their fill and then sought for a way to get closer to the gorgeous thing. They found the path to their right was hewn out into steps, much worn, but possible, and so got down to the floor and walked across toward the shining matrix. The rock sounded hollow under their feet. From one place steam rose like a wraith; the torch ray showed a circular hole and, through the rising mist, black water running swiftly. It was hot, undoubtedly volcanic, but after it cooled it would serve for drink. The ancient stream of the placer might have flowed scalding water once upon a time, Stone fancied.
