“Now, in that garden, think an Arab chief, a sheik, mounted on a beautiful Arabian horse, and—open your eyes!”
“Here is his sword!”
“I saw him clearly!” exclaimed Billy, his eyes flying wide open.
“HERE IS HIS SWORD”
“My!” he said, “but that’s a beauty!”
“It is,” said Mr. Prescott. “Look!”
Then he took the hilt in his right hand and the point in his left, and began to bend the point toward the hilt.
“Don’t,” cried Billy. “You’ll break it!”
“The tip and the hilt of the best of the old swords were supposed to come together,” said Mr. Prescott.