Snake and Sword | Page 7

the power to,
anyhow!"
"I give it up, Sir," said Nurse Beaton.
"I give it upper," added the Major, taking the object of their wonder
from the child.
And there was cause for wonder indeed.
A hole had been punched through the centre of the lid of a tobacco tin
and a number of others round the edge. Through the centre hole the
steel rod had been passed so that the tin made a "guard". To the other
holes wires had been fastened by bending, and their ends gathered,
twisted, and bound with string to the top of the handle (of bored corks)
to form an ornamental basket-hilt.
But the most remarkable thing of all was that, before doing this, the
juvenile designer had passed the rod through a piece of bored stick so
that the latter formed a cross-piece (neatly bound) within the tin
guard--the distinctive feature of the ancient and modern Italian rapiers!
Round this cross-piece the first two fingers of the boy's right hand were
crooked as he held the sword--and this is the one and only correct way
of holding the Italian weapon, as the Major was well aware!
"I give it most utterly-uppermost," he murmured. "It's positively
uncanny. No uninitiated adult of the utmost intelligence ever held an
Italian-pattern foil correctly yet--nor until he had been pretty carefully
shown. Who the devil put him up to the design in the first place, and
the method of holding, in the second? Explain yourself, you two-anna[6]
marvel," he demanded of the child. "It's jadu--black magic."
"Ayah lothted a wupee latht night," he replied.

"Lost a rupee, did she? Lucky young thing. Wish I had one to lose.
Who showed you how to hold that sword? Why do you crook your
fingers round the cross-piece like that?"
"Chucko laid me an egg latht night," observed Damocles. "He laid it
with my name on it--so that cook couldn't steal it."
"No doubt. Look here, where can I get a sword like yours? Where can I
copy it? Who makes them? Who knows about them?"
"I don't know, Major Thahib. Gunnoo sells 'Fire's' gram to the methrani
for her curry and chuppatties."
"But how do you know swords are like this? That thing isn't a pukka
sword."
"Well, it'th like Thir Theymour Thtukeley's in my dweam."
"What dream?"
"The one I'm alwayth dweaming. They have got long hair like Nurse in
the night, and they fight and fight like anything. Norful good fighters!
And they wear funny kit. And their thwords are like vis. Eggzackly.
Gunnoo gave me a ride on 'Fire,' and he'th a dam-liar. He thaid he
forgot to put the warm jhool on him when Daddy was going to fwash
him for being a dam-fool. I thaid I'd tell Daddy how he alwayth
thleepth in it himthelf, unleth he gave me a ride on 'Fire'. 'Fire' gave a
norful buck and bucked me off. At leatht I think he didn't."
Major Decies' face was curiously intent--as of some midnight worker in
research who sees a bright near glimpse of the gold his alchemy has so
long sought to materialize in the alembic of fact.
"Come back to sober truth, young youth. What about the dream? Who
are they, and what do they say and do?"
"Thir Theymour Thtukeley Thahib tellth Thir Matthew Thahib about
the hilt-thwust. (What is 'hilt-thwust'?) And Lubin, the thervant, ith a

white thervant. Why ith he white if he ith a Thahib's 'boy'?"
"Good Gad!" murmured the Major. "I'm favoured of the gods. Tell me
all about it, Sonny. Then I'll undo this parcel for you," he coaxed.
"Oh, I don't wemember. They buck a lot by the tents and then Thir
Theymour Thtukeley goes and fights Thir Matthew and kills him, and
it'th awful lovely, but they dreth up like kids at a party in big collars
and silly kit."
"Yes, I know," murmured the Major. "Tell me what they say when they
buck to each other by the tents, and when they talk about the
'hilt-thrust,' old chap."
"Oh, I don't wemember. I'll listen next time I dweam it, and tell you.
Chucko's egg was all brown--not white like those cook brings from the
bazaar. He's a dam-thief. Open the parcel, Major Thabib. What's in it?"
"A picture-book for you, Sonny. All sorts of jolly beasts that you'll
shikar some day. You'll tell me some more about the dream to-morrow,
won't you?"
"Yeth. I'll wemember and fink, and tell you what I have finked."
Turning to Nurse Beaton, the Major whispered:--
"Don't worry him about this dream at all. Leave it to me. It's wonderful.
Take him on your lap, Nurse, and--er--be ready. It's a very life-like
picture, and I'm going to spring it on him without any remark--but I'm
more than a