“I thought maybe he’d gone around to the hardware store and bought it,” drawled George soberly with a wink at Grant. He loved to stir up his companions, and none of them more so than his tall friend, John, who almost invariably rose to any bait he might happen to offer.
“What have you got there, Sam?” called Fred when the negro was within earshot.
Sam merely grinned and waved the object he held in his hand to the boys.
“As I said before it certainly looks like a knife,” murmured George.
“What is that, Sam?” asked Fred again when Sam had come up to the spot where the four boys were standing.
“Ah’s makin’ a knife,” said Sam proudly.
“Where did you get the steel?”
“Dat ain’t steel,” grinned Sam. “Dat am one o’ dem iron hoops off o’ dat dere bar’el o’ water. Ah is gwine sharpen her up and den we’ll hab a sho’ nuff knife.”
“I’m afraid it’ll never cut much,” laughed John. “No knife with a blade made of iron is apt to be much good. It’ll be all right to dig holes in the ground with, though.”
“Wait ’til she’s sharpened,” warned Sam.