A murmur went round.
"A knife!" he demanded at large, holding her firmly by the shoulder.
Twenty blades flashed out together in the circle.

A young man in holiday attire, bounding in, thrust one in Nostromo's hand and bounded back into the ranks, very proud of himself.

Nostromo had not even looked at him.
"Stand on my foot," he commanded the girl, who, suddenly subdued, rose lightly, and when he had her up, encircling her waist, her face near to his, he pressed the knife into her little hand.
"No, Morenita! You shall not put me to shame," he said.

"You shall have your present; and so that everyone should know who is your lover to-day, you may cut all the silver buttons off my coat." There were shouts of laughter and applause at this witty freak, while the girl passed the keen blade, and the impassive rider jingled in his palm the increasing hoard of silver buttons.

He eased her to the ground with both her hands full.