He carried a "twenty-two" rifle swung across his shoulders, and in his belt a rather formidable looking knife.
"For use or ornament?" she asked, indicating the weapons. "You look like Dick Danger."
"Strictly for use," he assured her. "The gun has brought down many a toothsome 'possum, and the knife serves to cut anything from firewood to alpenstocks. Shall I cut you one to assist your feeble steps?"
They halted while he selected a sapling for the purpose, trimmed and sharpened it at the end.
"Alpine travellers put sharp iron points on their staffs, Uncle says," he explained, "so that by thrusting them in the ice and snow they keep from slipping. We don't need them for just that purpose, but they are handy on steep paths—and to kill bugs with!"
She accepted the "alpenstock" gratefully and soon found it useful for both purposes.
"When we get back to camp I'll get Sandy to carve your initials in it—he's quite a genius at carving," Knight said.
"Is Sandy the—sandy one?"
"Precisely."
