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 The next day, the doctor said he must operate on Rhamon's foot. The nurses wheeled him into the special room where the big doctor stood ready, all dressed in white.

But Rhamon was not afraid. "See, I have my good-luck with me," he said, smiling and opening his hand to show the doctor his American penknife.

"Yes, you are right," said the doctor, smiling too. "Your good-luck will be with you." The nurse put a mask over his face and told him to breathe deep. A queer smell filled his nostrils. After that, Rhamon did not know anything more till he found himself back in bed with his foot wrapped up in yards and yards of bandages.

For many days he stayed in the hospital, but when he finally left with his uncle, he walked out on two good solid feet, as good and strong as any boy's in India!

"I think my penknife did bring me good luck," said Rhamon reaching into his pocket to make sure it was still there.