Thousands of adventurers had gone forth in search of these wonders, and thousands had perished in the attempt to find them.

Senor Zamorra had sought El Dorado on the banks of the Orinoco and the Rio Negro; others, near the source of the Rio Grande and the Maranon; others, again, among the volcanoes of Salvador and the canons of the Cordilleras.

Zamorra believed that it lay either in the wilds of Guiana, or the unexplored confines of Peru and the Brazils.
He had heard of and believed even greater wonders--of a stream on the Pacific coast of Mexico, whose pebbles were silver, and whose sand was gold; of a volcano in the Peruvian Cordillera, whose crater was lined with the noblest of metals, and which once in every hundred years ejected, for days together, diamonds, and rubies, and dust of gold.
"If that volcano could only be found," said the don, with a convulsive clutching of his bony fingers, and a greedy glare in his aged eyes.

"If that volcano could only be found! Why, it must be made of gold, and covered with precious stones! The man who found it would be the richest in all the world--richer than all the people in the world put together!" "Did you ever see it, Don Alberto ?" I asked.
"Did I ever see it ?" he cried, uplifting his withered hands.

"If I had seen that volcano you would never have seen me, but you would have heard of me.