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Updated: May 13, 2025
He smiled and drew the great bladed oars slowly through the calm water, leaning towards her with each stroke and looking into her eyes. "I wish I were really a fisherman," he said, "like your father!" "Why, signore?" she asked, in astonishment. "Because it's a free life, because it's a life I should love." She still looked at him with surprise. "But a fisherman has few soldi, signorino."
"I asked for a plain American hunting-knife, not this one. See, you have given me a Malay kris! I have not the slightest idea where you got it." We all looked intently at him. There, held up in his hand, was full proof of what he had said a long blade of wavy steel, with a little crooked, carved handle. From what I had read, I saw this to be a kris, a wavy bladed knife of the Malays.
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