第82节

'Thanks. And if I don't manage to see you again before you leave good

luck and . . ."

She gripped his outstretched hand firmly. 'Good hunting..."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Steve spent the next day in similar fashion, wandering around the lines

making a mental note of everything he saw and heard until called upon

to help carry bundles of furs and produce from the M'Call camp-site to

the trading post for examination. It was during one of these delivery

runs that he was tapped by Mr Snow.

'Just the man I'm looking for..." He led Steve over to where a large

group of M'Call Bears were clustered around Blue-Thunder. They stood

aside as the wordsmith approached. Steve saw that Blue-Thunder was

holding what looked like a rifle. 'What d'you think of that?"

Steve accepted the weapon from the paramount warrior with a respectful

nod and examined it from end to end, testing some of the working

parts.

He had never seen such a strange object before. It was a well-finished

weapon, made of steel and brass with a polished stock made of dark,

close-grained wood. But it had no optical sights, just a small blade

at the front and a notched block that could be moved along a calibrated

scale mounted on the rear end of a single barrel with a bore like a

waterpipe. The magazine was a curious revolving metal cylinder with

ten holes drilled through it. Two domed pieces of steel covered the

back and front of the cylinder where it protruded on each side of the

rifle stock. At the rear end of the barrel, behind and above the

cylinder, was a flat, spiked metal hammer that could be pulled back

with the thumb and which clicked forward when the trigger was pulled.

This action caused the cylinder to revolve to the right, bringing

another of the holes under the hammer.

'These holes must be for the bullets..."

'That's right. Iron plugs. You put them in from the back. Just press

that catch."

Steve did so. The barrel, forestock and cylinder broke open, pivoting

forward around a pin located just ahead of the trigger guard. He

clicked the barrel back into place then looked inside the brass butt

plate and examined the underside of the stock. 'Where do they keep the

compressed air bottle?"

'It doesn't use compressed air. Each bullet is filled

.with a powder that drives it out of the barrel."

'What kind of powder?"

'They call it gunpowder. You saw the fireworks. It's similar to

whatever makes those rockets fly into the air."

Mr Snow released a catch on the stock just above and behind the trigger

guard and swung aside a small cover plate. Inside was a recessed

compartment with a central spigot and a primitive escapement

mechanism.

'A coiled ribbon made of paper fits on that spike and passes up under

the hammer. The ribbon contains a string of small flat beads of the

same special powder. When you pull the trigger the hammer hits one of

the beads. It catches fire and lights the back of the bullet. Bang!

Away it goes.

When you release the trigger, a new piece of ribbon moves under the

hammer."

Steve smiled. 'Interesting idea. What's the range?"

'Half a bolt. You measure things differently.

Yama-Shita said it was the equal of your rifle. Better in some

ways."

Steve eased back the hammer and pulled the trigger to release it. 'If

you have to do this every time you fire, then our guns are faster they

fire three bullets at a time and hold many more."

'True. But as Yama-Shita pointed out, your rifles are no good to us.

Once the wind has escaped from the bottles, they are a heap of junk.

Your masters are not stupid. They've made sure that those who see the

light and run from your dark cities have nothing to fight with."

'You're right. I never thought of it like that before."

Even so, thought Steve, it was no contest. An iron plug against 0.225

calibre steelpoints. Ten rounds against a sixty shot magazine with an