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Updated: June 8, 2025
She saw the heavily-shouldered, muscularly-built figure crossing the drift a little way down, stepping from boulder to boulder with those curiously small, neat feet, twirling his old horn-handled hunting-crop as he went, with a decidedly vicious swish of the doubled thong. Now he was knee-deep in the reeds of the north shore; now he was climbing the bank.
The virtues of the great queens of Spain are revived in her. Oh, those soiled stockings, what real glory there is in them!" He took the letter and put it back in his book. Then, arming himself with a horn-handled knife, he began, with its point, to finish a figure sketched in the handle of his stick. He complimented himself on it: "I am skilful in all the arts of beggars and vagabonds.
An ancient clock, that important article of cottage furniture, ticked on the opposite side of the room, with a bright warming-pan hanging on one side of it, and the old man's horn-handled Sunday cane on the other. The fireplace, as usual, was wide and deep enough to admit a gossip knot within its jambs.
He had taught me to use and keep it fairly well. I gave him my big horn-handled knife, which was quite a tool-kit in itself; and my father gave him a hunting-crop to which he had taken a desperate fancy. The storekeeper's man witnessed our parting, and that kept me on my dignity; but when the pair of them were out of sight, I felt I had lost a friend, and had many cares upon my shoulders.
She took it and rubbed it with soft sand to remove some discolorations and laid it, with a horn-handled knife, by the china plate. "Ef we only had napkins," she said, while Sonsie, who had lived all her life near the clearing, and knew nothing of the fashions of the world, asked what napkins were.
Why, Manuel, you surely know that then the meat-cook, and the butler, too, would be demanding more, and that there would be no end to it." "But, my dear, the boy was talking mad blasphemy, and was for cutting my throat with a great horn-handled knife."
As I stood rooted to the ground with horror, not knowing which way to look or turn, I suddenly saw drop from the ash, the form of a woman, a Highland girl, with bold, handsome features, raven black hair, and the whitest of arms and feet. In one hand she carried a wicker basket, in the other a knife, a broad-bladed, sharp-edged, horn-handled knife.
"The knife was mine," his visitor affirmed, dropping his voice once more to a whisper. "It lay on the edge of the counter, close to where Mr. Morrison was leaning, and as soon as he'd gone I missed it." Laverick was silent. What was there to be said? "Horn-handled knives," he muttered, "are not rare not uncommon things."
Beside his right hand a most formidable horn-handled, two-edged dagger lay upon the floor, and near it a black kid glove. "By George! it's Black Gorgiano himself!" cried the American detective. "Someone has got ahead of us this time." "Here is the candle in the window, Mr. Holmes," said Gregson. "Why, whatever are you doing?"
A half-breed whom Jean met at Fond du Lac said that he had found the bones of a white man on the Beaver, with a Hudson's Bay gun and a horn-handled knife beside them. Jean came back to Lac Bain heavy at heart. "There is no doubt but that he is dead," he told Iowaka. "I do not believe that it will hurt very much if you tell Melisse."
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