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"Ah," he said, "ah!..." She watched him with a knifelike keenness while he reflected, and she read the stealthy gratification of the thought he voiced next: "But you can't, old girl There are the kiddies." "Do you suppose I don't know that?" "Oh, well; I knew you were only joking." Joking? What a joke! "I shall try to save a bit of money for the first time in my life," he said.
A knifelike pang of envy pierced Darsie's heart; she dropped the dainty morsel of cake on to her plate with a feeling of actual physical nausea; for the moment her old ambitions lost their savour, and appeared grey and dead; she was pierced with an overpowering pity for her own hard lot.
Here she cached all of her treasure except a single knifelike sliver. With this she descended to the ground and searching out a slender sapling that grew arrow-straight she hacked and sawed until she could break it off without splitting the wood. It was just the right diameter for the shaft of a spear a hunting spear such as her beloved Waziri had liked best.
She leaned against the corral post, looking out over the wide expanse of the prairie round about. "Are those our antelope out there, Lucy?" she asked, pointing out with care the few tiny objects, thin and knifelike, crowned with short black forking tips, which showed up against the sky line on a distant ridge. "I think they must be. I haven't noticed them for quite a while."
The hunter laughingly whispered, "I can see better than you can even with your foreign eyes. He is standing in that trail he may come right up to us." I tried again, following the thin, white line as it wound from us along the side of the knifelike ridge. Just where it vanished into space I saw the sheep, a splendid ram, standing like a statue of gray-brown granite and gazing squarely at us.
He looked at the wrinkled and shattered rock with its knifelike edges. "I don't think my feet could take it," Copper admitted. "It looks like the end of the trail." "No not quite," Kennon said. "There seems to be a path here." He pointed to a narrow cleft in the black rock. "Let's see where it goes." Copper hung back. "I don't think I want to," she said doubtfully.
Mildred knew only that she had to live up to the reputation of a mighty skater, and was not sure whether she could even stand on these knifelike edges. She laced one boot, happy in the belief that at any rate there would be no witness to her voyage of discovery.
And the sight of the round bulk of the latter, huddled alone upon a baggage truck before the deserted Boltonwood station-shed, fully vindicated his judgment. It was still only a scant hour since daybreak. Heavy, low-hanging clouds in the east, gray with threatening rain, cut off any warmth there might have been in the rising sun and sharpened the raw wind to a knifelike edge.
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