It was this gem-like appearance of what might have been taken elsewhere for richly flowering grasses that led Una to suspect the reality--judged by the standards of the world with which she was familiar--of this subterranean garden. A white flower, heavily streaked with crimson, from the heart of which long golden stamens were thrust in a drooping cluster, hung on its stalk conveniently near. Except for its coloring, and a square rather than spherical modeling of the calyx, it might easily pass for one of the lily family. To make sure Una plucked it. From the broken stem a tiny stream of water bubbled out, and the flower in Una's hands seemed to lose at once the soft shimmer of light that had played upon its petals only a moment before. Most extraordinary of all was the weight of the flower. Suspended from its stalk, it seemed the frailest, daintiest of objects; a blossom that the merest breeze could have tossed about at will. But Una found it as heavy as so much metal, or stone; and this, with the clinking together of its leaves as they were moved by her touch, revealed the startling character of subterranean botany. She was disappointed at first to find that this was not, in the ordinary sense of the word, a flower at all; but regret was quickly followed by curiosity as to the actual nature of the strange growth she held in her hands. Its unusual weight belied the delicacy of its outward appearance; the fires that had clothed its leaves with living tints, in dying seemed to have left behind the pallor of ashes. Nevertheless, it retained a strange, subtle beauty, odorless, undefinable. It might be a rare kind of stalactite--except that a stalactite had not its soft brilliancy--or a sheaf of gems, one of the many that strewed this subterranean valley. Whatever it was, it reminded Una, however faintly, of the glories of the outer world--and she cherished it for this more than for its own beauty. Narva, roused for the first time from the spell of her own thoughts, shook her head in disapproval of what Una had done. Evidently she questioned her right to pluck the flower, for she motioned to her to throw it away. "The Queen's garden!" she exclaimed in tones of rebuke. As this was the first definite intimation of their whereabouts, Una was quick to seize upon it. This mysterious queen, then, of whom Narva had vaguely spoken before, was really mixed up in their present expedition. She recalled Narva's hint that, in some way, Una was to be of assistance to her, and she wondered whether this meant that they were bringing rescue of some sort to the queen, a possibility of high adventure she was far too young not to relish. A queen, moreover, who cultivated jewels--or something very like them--in her garden was worthy the best flowers of romance. At any rate, Una felt a new zest in the enterprise she was on and began to chafe at Narva's leisurely dignity. "It is plenty of time," said the old Indian sternly, noting her impatience. "Have care."