The gem, though roughly polished, was uncut, but its dimensions were those of a small blackbird's egg, it was of the purest pigeon-blood colour, without a flaw, and worn almost round, apparently by the action of water.

Now, as it chanced, Leonard knew something of gems, although unhappily he was less acquainted with the peculiarities of the ruby than with those of most other stones.

Thus, although this magnificent specimen might be a true stone, as indeed appeared to be the case, it was quite possible that it was only a spinel, or a garnet, and alas! he had no means of setting his doubts at rest.
"Do your people find many of these pebbles, Soa ?" he asked, "and if so, where do they find them ?" "Yes, White Man, they find many, though few of such a size as this.
They dig them out of a dry river-bed in some spot that is known to the priests only, and with them other beautiful stones of a blue colour." "Sapphires probably," said Leonard to himself: "they generally go together." "Every year they dig them," she went on, "and the biggest of those that are found in their digging they bind upon the brow of her who is to be offered as a wife to the god Jal.

Afterwards, before she dies, they take the gem from her brow and store it in a secret place, and there in that secret place are hidden all those that have been worn by the victims of countless years.

Moreover the eyes of Jal are made of such stones, and there are others.
"This is the legend of my people, White Man, that Jal, God of Death and Evil, slew his mother, Aca, in the far past.