“Don’t you worry about protecting me. I won’t need any protecting. But if you want something to fight with in case you should be held up on the road—why, I’ve got just the very thing for you. Take good care of it, though, won’t you?”
She darted across the attic floor and in among the shadows; returning presently with a straight-bladed infantry sword of a somewhat antique make.
Handling it almost with reverence, she offered it hilt foremost to Dad.
“It was Ehud’s,” she said gently. “He set a lot of store by it. He carried it all through the Mexican War. I think I told you he was a captain there. It cost thirty-two dollars and seventy-five cents, including the lettering. Is the light too dim for you to see the lettering? It’s on the blade.
“It says ‘Draw me not without cause. Sheathe me not without honor.’
“I—I kind of think you’re the kind of man who can keep that commandment. Take the sword.”
CHAPTER XIII
THE ALARM
DAD received the weapon from her hands as reverently as she had tendered it. His fingers closed about the fretted ivory hilt, and he read in the fading light the inscription on its blue-steel blade.
Then he handed it back.
“A beautiful sword,” he said, a catch in his voice, “and one that any soldier might rejoice to wear at his side. The sword of a brave man, I am sure. Such a man as would to-day be striking gallantly for our dear country if he were still living. I am honored past words at your gift. But—I cannot accept it.”