Honk-Ah crammed his mouth full of his own fingers and bit them, but no one spoke. All edged a step nearer, and when the string hummed for the third time, and the final dart, driven straight and hard, stood between the other two, there was a deep gasp of half incredulous surprise.
Savages are deeply and religiously conservative, and easily persuade themselves that their own way, though demonstrably the worse, is the right way. Did the land-owners of England effusively fold Stephenson to their noble bosoms? His trains would interfere with their fox-hunting, so much they could see. Later they saw money in the thing and came into it with a rush.
Now the Sun-Men were almost as conservative as the House of Peers in the day when the Rocket was the last New Thing; and there was nothing of lucre with which to commend this invention to their unwilling admiration.
Alack, our race has moved with a pitiful slowness, and still moves locally and by jerks, and with much intermediate marking of time and retrogressions elsewhere.
Hence it is not to be supposed that the Sun-Men acclaimed the first performances of the New Thing with shouts of joy. To the braves of the tribe it signified the success of a piece of woman's gear. Their first impulse was to have none of it, to shout it down as foreign magic, certainly novel, probably impious, and no doubt offensive to their deity. Even the old chief, with all to gain by his grandson's victory, was unenthusiastic.
Were they more stupid than their descendants of a later day? I trow not. Let the reader judge. Once during England's struggle with Napoleon was the chance offered to each antagonist to end the matter at a stroke. How did they take it? Joseph Manton laid his designs for rifled artillery before the Master of the Ordnance and was refused leave to manufacture guns capable of demolishing the ships, forts and forces of France at long range. A few years later young Fulton explained to Bonaparte his plans for towing the wind-bound Boulogne fleet across the Channel by steam. The hard, shallow grey eyes of the Corsican stared him down, "Idéalist!" and England was safe for another century.
Pŭl-Yūn had won, but the successful competitor's three astonishing shots aroused suspicion in some, anger and jealousy in others. There were men present capable of surlily or passionately repudiating the fact. Honk-Ah did. He arose from his heels, flung out his hands, strutted, laughed derisively, indulged in gestures offensive and provocative and walked towards the target.
"Stop!" cried the old chief, "let no man draw those spears."
Himself detaching the skin he bore it around the circle of watching braves. There was no denying the evidence. Those three, small, bow-driven darts were in over their heads. A man so struck would hardly have lived out the day.