Conrad—What does it look like?
Fritz— It's as long as that,
(Indicating on his staff.)
And blue as the waters of the tarn down there.
Upon the haft are wrought two eagles' heads
And, twisted round the blade in coil on coil,
A serpent in the talons of the birds
Forms the cross piece upon the lower haft.
On the blade between the coils what may be runes
Are cut in characters of some unknown tongue;
At least, no man has ever made them out.
Conrad—Where could the boy have gotten it?
Fritz— No one knows.
Turn the bird over.
Conrad— It is not brown yet.
Fritz—There is something magical about it all.
In the light, the blade bends like a willow wand,
But when the sky is overcast with clouds
Or in the shade of rock or tree no man
With all his might can bend it, and it slips
Through tree and rock as through a pawpaw leaf.
Conrad—The boy himself, what did he say?
Fritz— He vanished.