The evil of not being used to it.
But the blacks had not left the guns, and utterly unused as these two were to the use of such savage weapons, they felt a thrill of satisfaction run through them as they grasped the means of making one stroke in defence of their lives.
“It’s a many years since I used to go into the copses to cut myself a good hazel and make myself a bow, Mr Jack, and get reeds out of the edge of the long lake, to tie nails in the ends and use for arrows. I used to bind the nails in with whitey-brown thread well beeswaxed, and then dress the notch at the other end to keep the bowstring from splitting it up. I’ve hit rabbits with an arrow before now, though they always run into their holes. You can shoot with a bow and arrow at a target of course?”
“I? No, Ned,” said the boy sadly. “I can’t do anything but read.”
“Oh, I say, sir! Why, I’ve seen you knock over things with a gun. Look how you finished that sea snake.”
“I suppose I’d better try though, Ned.”
“Why of course, sir. You take the one you like. Here’s three of them. Wish they hadn’t been so stingy with the arrows—only five between two of us. Never mind. Hadn’t got any ten minutes ago. We’ll keep a pair apiece and have one to spare, and a spear each. We’ll leave the others in here, and let ’em fetch ’em if they dare.”
“Yes,” said Jack, selecting his weapons; “but we must not go out yet.”
“Well, sir, I don’t want to interfere, but I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday, and if I don’t soon do some stoking my engine won’t go.”
“But you don’t expect that you are going to kill anything with these things?” cried Jack.