“Rather! but I’d sooner have a dog’s-head pin instead. I suppose you’ve not got one.”
Considering that Dick’s dog’s-head pin, the gift of his particular aunt, was all this time within a few inches of Culver’s nose, the inquiry was decidedly artless.
“Yes, I have,” said Dick, pointing to his scarf; “a jolly one, too.”
“How’d you like to swop?”
“Let’s see the knife,” replied the business-like Dick.
Culver produced the knife. Rather a sorry weapon, as regarded its chief blades. But it had a saw, and a gouge to remove stones from one’s boot.
“It’s a jolly fine knife,” said Culver, seeing that it was already making an impression; “and I’d be sorry to part with it.”
Dick mused on the weapon, and lightly rubbed his chin against his aunt’s dog’s-head.
“All right,” said he, putting the knife into his pocket, and slowly pulling out the pin. His conscience half smote him, as he saw his treasure being transferred to Culver’s scarf. But he was too proud to try to revoke his bargain, and consoled himself as best he could by fondling the knife in his pocket, and thinking how useful the gouge would be.
Before the evening was over he made the discovery that “swopping” was a favourite pastime of the leisure hours of the Den. He was startled at one period of the evening to notice Heathcote’s steel chain adorning the waistcoat of Gosse, and an hour later to find it in the possession of Raggles, who came over to Dick with it, and asked casually.