"'Ow many blades it got?"

"Three."

"And what sort of 'andle?"

"Bone."

"Got a corkscrew like?"

"Yes."

"Ah! This ain't your knife no'ow. See?"

He made no offer to show it to me. My breath went.

"Look here!" I said. "I saw that kid pick it up. It IS my knife."

"Rot!" said the big boy, and slowly, deliberately put my knife into
his trouser pocket.

I braced my soul for battle. All civilisation was behind me, but I
doubt if it kept the colour in my face. I buttoned my jacket and
clenched my fists and advanced on my antagonist--he had, I suppose,
the advantage of two years of age and three inches of height. "Hand
over that knife," I said.

Then one of the smallest of the band assailed me with extraordinary
vigour and swiftness from behind, had an arm round my neck and a