"Let's see yours."
Stripping the knife from his belt, Barr handed it to Jeff. Betraying
nothing of what he thought, Jeff unsheathed the homemade weapon.
Razor-sharp, it was exquisitely balanced and so finely made that blade
of steel and hilt of horn flowed into each other as smoothly and as
naturally as two placid creeks mingle their waters. Ordinarily Jeff was
able to do little in towns and cities. But he could if he had
merchandise like this to offer. Aside from being highly practical, the
knife was a collector's item. Jeff handed it back.
"Guess not."
"What do ye want?"
"Two knives like that."
Smirking faintly, Barr Whitney thrust a hand inside his shirt and
brought out the twin to the first knife. Obviously he'd been wearing it
in a shoulder sheath. He dropped both knives beside Jeff and for the
first time there was a change in his expression. His eyes were gleeful,
as though he'd been too sharp for a peddler, and he clutched the clasp
knife firmly.
Jeff said in pretended disappointment, "Guess I talked myself out of
that one."
"Guess you did."
"Well, I do sometimes. Which way is Smithville?"