“He did just as much as that knife is an Indian relic,” says Mark. “Look at it. S-shiny, ain’t it? Polished, eh? Been taken care of. That knife hain’t laid there but a few hours. Heavy dew here, ain’t there? Would ’a’ rusted it some in no time. No, sir, whoever dropped that did it last night or to-day.”
“Looks like one of them souveneers you could buy to the World’s Fair,” says Plunk.
“This ain’t a s-souvenir,” says Mark; “it’s the real thing. I’ve seen those knives and swords and things from Turkey and Persia and such p-places, but they’re cheap. Jest made to sell to folks. This ain’t cheap. It’s the real thing, I tell you.”
“What do you calc’late it is? Turk or what?”
“Can’t t-tell. Some such race owned it. Come from Asia or Africa, that’s sure.”
“Well,” says I, “I hope the feller that dropped it hain’t got another. I’d feel safer a lot if I knew he was just out of knives like this and couldn’t get any more.”
“Me, too,” says Plunk.
“I wonder how a man in these parts came by a dagger from Asia,” says Binney.
“We d-don’t know,” says Mark, “that it is a man from these p-parts. Maybe it’s a man from Asia.”
“’Tain’t likely,” says I.