72 THE BIG CANOE

bling hands. “You were not afraid of the darkness,
nor afraid of us,” he added, as Weah hesitated.
“Surely you are not afraid to do a thing that I have
just done before your eyes. This musket will not harm
you.”

“T will fire it,” Weah decided bravely. “I am not
afraid.”

With fast-beating heart he aimed and fired, follow-
ing the careful directions of the trader. He did not
flinch even when the old musket kicked wickedly,
though it hurt his shoulder. As a reward he saw a
second goose floating upon the water.

“The gun is yours, Weah,” said the trader, putting
the musket into his hands. “I will give you powder
and shot to go with it so that you can fire it again
when we are gone. You are very brave—braver than
any other lad I have ever seen.”

“You are very brave, my son,” agreed Weah’s
father, the chief, taking the musket from his son’s
hands and examining it curiously. “Never again shall
any one in my tribe call you Weah the Timid.”

“What shall they call me, my father?” demanded
Weah.

“They shall call you Weah the Bold,” declared the
chief, proudly. “They shall remember that you, first
of all, looked upon the Yetz Haada and were not
afraid. They shall remember that you, first of all,
dared to kill a goose with the thunder-and-lightning-
stick of the strangers. Upon a great totem pole shall