The young fiddler, Jim Otis, leaned over and looked at them.
"I don't care," said Richard, "I won't let you go alone unless you take my knife." Madelon laughed.

"What nonsense!" said she, and tried to pass her brother.
But Richard held her by the arm while he rummaged in his pocket for the great clasp-knife which he had earned himself by the sale of some rabbit-skins, and which was the pride of his heart and his dearest treasure, and opened it.

"Here," said he, and he forced the clasp-knife into his sister's hand.

Otis, leaning over the gallery, saw it all.

Many of the dancers had gone to supper; there was no other person very near them.