“Yes, yes, certainly, let our brave hero go! Noashak will take care of me very well.” Guninana’s sides shook with uncontrolled mirth. “I want to hear all that happens up yonder anyway, and the lad’s stories will be better than yours, Taptuna.”
So it was agreed. Kak could not stay indoors with the excitement of his great adventure surging in his veins; he had to go out and tear up and down, and yell, and let off steam generally.
Besides the glory and honor of arriving at the village in such distinguished company, he would see his cousin, Akpek, who was his own age and his best chum, and to whom he had long wanted to boast about killing that ugrug. Kak knew Taptuna could not resist telling of his son’s house-building and hunting to Uncle Kitirkolak; and he anticipated the relations would all make a big fuss over him when they heard the news. Akpek would have to pay him a lot of respect.
They were not to start until next morning for the strangers, both men and dogs, needed a good rest; and Kak thought he would never be able to put in the time; however, this turned out to be one of the most thrilling days of his life. Omialik did not forget his promise about the rifle. He took the weapon from its case and allowed Kak to examine it closely; hold it in his own hands; place it at his shoulder and look, as directed, down the long nose. The boy could not at all understand how it worked so their guest showed him. There being no wild animals about he set up a stick, walked far away, raised the gun, and sent a bullet through the wood from where he stood. The Eskimos were not greatly impressed for they thought it magic. Their own shamans told them constantly of strong spells which would kill animals unseen, and carry people to the moon, and so forth. What really excited everybody was the tremendous bang the gun made when it went off. Hitkoak’s wife and the girls were so frightened they ran into their own house and would not come out; and Noashak howled at the top of her lungs and kept on howling till poor Guninana, who was pretty well scared herself, begged the kind Kabluna not to do it again.
He did do it again though, just once more, to satisfy Kak. And when Kak learned it was not magic, and saw the small piece of metal which flew out of the rifle straight to its mark, he was crazy to try it himself.
“Oh, let me, let me, let me!” he teased, dancing up and down in a frenzy of desire. “I only want to whang it off once—I’m sure I can hit the stick.”
The white man shook his head. “No you can’t, not at the first trial—no one ever does. The fact is,” he explained, “I can only shoot this gun off a certain number of times until I get back to my own country, because I have only a certain number of bullets. We may need them all to kill animals for food, so I dare not waste any more.”
“Can they bang? Can they make holes in the stick?” Kak asked, pointing to the strange Eskimos.
“Yes, sometimes. The little fellow shoots pretty well.”
“If he learned, I can learn!”