Snake and Sword | Page 6

it? Alas, that I missed those pleasing-er-squorks," replied the
Major, and added: "This is thy natal day, my son. Thou art a man of
five."
"I'm a debble. I'm a norful little debble," corrected Damocles,
cheerfully and with conviction.
"Incidentally. But you are five also," persisted the senior man.
"It's my birfday to-day," observed the junior.
"I just said so."
"That you didn't, Major Thahib. This is a thword. Father's charger's got
an over-weach. Jumping. He says it's a dam-nuithanth."
"Oh, that's a sword, is it? And 'Fire' has got an over-reach. And it's a
qualified nuisance, is it?"
"Yeth, and the mare is coughing and her thythe is a blathted fool for

letting her catch cold."
"The mare has a cold and the syce[4] is a qualified fool, is he? H'm! I
think it's high time you had a look in at little old England, my son, what?
And who made you this elegant rapier? Ochterlonie Sahib or--who?"
(Lieutenant Lord Ochterlonie was the Adjutant of the Queen's Greys, a
friend of Colonel de Warrenne, an ex-admirer of his late wife, and a
great pal of his son.)
"'Tithn't a waper. It'th my thword. I made it mythelf."
"Who helped?"
"Nobody. At leatht, Khodadad Khan, Orderly, knocked the holes in the
tin like I showed him--or elthe got the Farrier Thargeant to do it, and
thaid he had."
"Yes--but who told you how to make it like this? Where did you see a
hand-part like this? It isn't like Daddy's sword, nor Khodadad Khan's
tulwar. Where did you copy it?"
"I didn't copy it.... I shot ten rats wiv a bow-and-arrow last night. At
leatht--I don't think I shot ten. Nor one. I don't think I didn't, pwaps."
"But hang it all, the thing's an Italian rapier, by Gad. Some one must
have shown you how to make the thing, or you've got a picture. It's a
pukka[5] mediaeval rapier."
"No it'th not. It'th my thword. I made it.... Have a jolly fight"--and the
boy struck an extraordinarily correct fencing attitude--left hand raised
in balance, sword poised, legs and feet well placed, the whole pose easy,
natural, graceful.
Curiously enough, the sword was held horizontal instead of pointing
upward, a fact which at once struck the observant and practised eye of
Major John Decies, sometime champion fencer.
"Who's been teaching you fencing?" he asked.

"What ith 'fenthing'? Let'th have a fight," replied the boy.
"Stick me here, Dam," invited the Major, seating himself and indicating
the position of the heart. "Bet you can't."
The boy lunged, straight, true, gracefully, straightening all his limbs
except his right leg, rigidly, strongly, and the "sword" bent upward
from the spot on which the man's finger had just rested.
"Gad! Who has taught you to lunge? I shall have a bruise there, and
perhaps--live. Who's behind all this, young fella? Who taught you to
stand so, and to lunge? Ochterlonie Sahib or Daddy?"
"Nobody. What is 'lunge'? Will you buy me a little baby-camel to play
with and teach tricks? Perhaps it would sit up and beg. Do camelth lay
eggth? Chucko does. Millions and lakhs. You get a thword, too, and
we'll fight every day. Yeth. All day long----"
"Good morning, Sir," said Nurse Beaton, bustling into the verandah
from the nursery. "He's as mad as ever on swords and fighting, you see.
It's a soldier he'll be, the lamb. He's taken to making that black orderly
pull out his sword when he's in uniform. Makes him wave and jab it
about. Gives me the creeps--with his black face and white eyes and all.
You won't encourage the child at it, will you, Sir? And his poor Mother
the gentlest soul that ever stepped. Swords! Where he gets his notions I
can't think (though I know where he gets his language, poor lamb!).
Look at that thing, Sir! For all the world like the dressed-up folk have
on the stage or in pictures."
"You haven't let him see any books, I suppose, Nurse?" asked the
Major.
"No, Sir. Never a book has the poor lamb seen, except those you've
brought. I've always been in terror of his seeing a picture of a
you-know-what, ever since you told me what the effect might be. Nor
he hasn't so much as heard the name of it, so far as I know."
"Well, he'll see one to-day. I've brought it with me--must see it sooner

or later. Might see a live one anywhere--in spite of all your care.... But
about this sword--where could he have got the idea? It's unlike any
sword he ever set eyes on. Besides if he ever did see an Italian
rapier--and there's scarcely such a thing in India--he'd not get the
chance to use it as a copy. Fancy his having the desire and