It was not hard rock, but black, decomposed stuff which could be crumbled in the hand like a baked potato, and when spread out on a paper exhibited a thick sprinkling of gold and particles of "native" silver.
Higbie brought a handful to the cabin, and when he had washed it out his amazement was beyond description.

Wide West stock soared skywards.

It was said that repeated offers had been made for it at a thousand dollars a foot, and promptly refused.

We have all had the "blues"-- the mere sky-blues--but mine were indigo, now--because I did not own in the Wide West.

The world seemed hollow to me, and existence a grief.