sh
sport, and said aloud: "I shall never call a man a good archer who
shoots at a target as large as a buckler. We have another sort of butt
in my country, and that is worth shooting at."

William of Cloudeslee's Archery

"Make ready your own butts," the king commanded, and the three outlaws
went to a bush in a field close by and returned bearing hazel-rods,
peeled and shining white. These rods they set up at four hundred
yards apart, and, standing by one, they said to the king: "We should
account a man a fair archer if he could split one wand while standing
beside the other." "It cannot be done; the feat is too great,"
exclaimed the king. "Sire, I can easily do it," quoth Cloudeslee, and,
taking aim very carefully, he shot, and the arrow split the wand in
two. "In truth," said the king, "you are the best archer I have ever
seen. Can you do greater wonders?" "Yes," quoth Cloudeslee, "one thing
more I can do, but it is a more difficult feat. Nevertheless I will
try it, to show you our North Country shooting." "Try, then," the king
replied; "but if you fail you shall be hanged without mercy, because
of your boasting."

Cloudeslee Shoots the Apple from his Son's Head

Now Cloudeslee stood for a few moments as if doubtful of himself, and
the South Country archers watched him, hoping for a chance to retrieve
their defeat, when William suddenly said: "I have a son, a dear son,
seven years of age. I will tie him to a stake and place an apple on
his head. Then from a distance of a hundred and twenty yards I will
split the apple in two with a broad arrow." "By heaven!" the king
cried, "that is a dreadful feat. Do as you have said, or by Him who
died on the Cross I will hang you high. Do as you have said, but if
you touch one hair of his head, or the edge of his gown, I will hang
you and your two companions." "I have never broken my pledged word,"
said the North Country bowman, and he at once made ready for the
terrible trial. The stake was set in the ground, the boy tied to it,
with his face turned from his father, lest he should give a start and
destroy his aim. Cloudeslee then paced the hundred and twenty yards,
anxiously felt his string, bent his bow, chose his broadest arrow, and
fitted it with care.

[Illustration: William of Cloudeslee and his son]

The Last Shot

It was an anxious moment. The throng of spectators felt sick with
expectation, and many women wept and prayed for the father and his
innocent son