Wyatt obeyed, and as he looked down he saw that indeed it was no ornament, but a deadly weapon, with a magnificent damascened blade, and keen as a razor.
“It is light in the hand, and a stroke from that would lay one of my enemies dead at your feet. Keep it for my sake. I may want you to defend me again.”
“I’ll keep it, Rajah,” said Wyatt, sheathing the beautiful weapon; “but I would have fought for you just as well without it.”
“I know that,” replied the Rajah. “Now take me in to see Captain Hulton and my friend the doctor. I am truly glad that they are recovering from their wounds.”
Wyatt led the way to Hulton’s room, bearing with him his present; and when the Rajah at last took his leave, he attended him to his elephant, and then, with the sword still in his hand, walked beside him to the gate, afterwards taking the weapon into Dick’s room, where the two carefully examined it and had a long talk about the beauty of the gift.
“Shall you wear it?” said Dick at last.
“Yes, on state occasions, for show. It would be no use to me on service. I should never get used to such a hilt. The grip is too small, but it would be just the thing for you. I’ve a good mind to give it to you.”
“You can’t,” said Dick. “It would be unfair to the donor.”
“Humph! yes, I suppose so. Well, I could lend it to you; there would be no harm in that. It just fits your girlish hand. There, hang it up.”
“I shouldn’t like it to be stolen.”