“What is he?”
“A young gun,” I answered with a smile.
As I took the weapon I looked about me. There were five unsuspicious savages, and there were six messengers of death at my command. For an instant a wild resolve thrilled me; but it was for an instant only. My soul revolted at the wholesale slaughter I should be compelled to inflict, and I looked at my interlocutor with a pleasant smile.
“Does he shoot?” he queried, his dark eyes lighting up with curiosity.
“Of course. Would you like to see me fire it?”
“Yaw! shoot at him,” he answered, pointing at the trunk of a large tree.
“What part of it?”
“Hit him where you mind to.”
“Oh, let’s have a mark,” I laughed, stepping forward and tearing off a small piece of the bark, so as to offer a red spot several inches in diameter. The other savages were now surveying my motions with interest, and with some degree of suspicion the formidable looking little weapon in my hand. I saw there was an opportunity for making a good impression and I resolved to do it. I stepped back a few paces, took a careful, though apparently a careless aim, and fired the six barrels in succession with tolerable good effect.
“Just look at the mark,” I remarked, rather stiffly.