"We did not know you had that thing around you!" exclaimed Belknap.
"That is only sleight of hand."
"Is it, indeed?" said Orme, smiling. "I tell you, I did not have it with
me. After all, you see it is the same knife."
We all gaped curiously, and there, as I am a living man, we saw that
wavy kris, extended in his hand, turn back into the form of the
plainsman's hunting-knife! A gasp of wonder and half terror came from
the circle. Some of the men drew back. I heard an Irish private swear
and saw him cross himself. I do not explain these things, I only say I
saw them.
"I was mistaken," said Orme, politely, "in offering so simple a test as
this; but now, if you still think I had the kris in my clothing--how
that could be, I don't know, I'm sure--and if you still wish to call my
little performance sleight of hand, then I'll do something to prove what
I have said, and make it quite plain that all my friend here has said is
true and more than true. Watch now, and you will see blood drip from the
point of this blade--every drop of blood it ever drew, of man or animal.
Look, now--watch it closely."
We looked, and again, as I am a living man, and an honest one, I hope, I
saw, as the others did, running from the point of the steel blade, a
little trickling stream of red blood! It dropped in a stream, I say, and
fell on the white blanket upon which Orme was sitting.
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