ted with the tension.

"Who is this fool's-head who stands in the way of my shoot?" said he,
craning up his neck from the ground.

"He stands on the further side of my mark," answered the Brabanter, "so
he has little to fear from you."

"Well, the saints assoil him!" cried John. "Though I think he is
over-near to be scathed." As he spoke he raised his two feet, with the
bow-stave upon their soles, and his cord twanged with a deep rich hum
which might be heard across the valley. The measurer in the distance
fell flat upon his face, and then jumping up again, he began to run in
the opposite direction.

"Well shot, old lad! It is indeed over his head," cried the bowmen.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Brabanter, "who ever saw such a shoot?"

"It is but a trick," quoth John. "Many a time have I won a gallon of ale
by covering a mile in three flights down Wilverley Chase."

"It fell a hundred and thirty paces beyond the fifth mark," shouted an
archer in the distance.

"Six hundred and thirty paces! Mon Dieu! but that is a shoot! And yet it
says nothing for your weapon, mon gros camarade, for it was by turning
yourself into a crossbow that you did it."

"By my hilt! there is truth in that," cried Aylward. "And now, friend,
I will myself show you a vantage of the long-bow. I pray you to speed
a bolt against yonder shield with all your force. It is an inch of elm
with bull's hide over it."

"I scarce shot as many shafts at Brignais," growled the man of Brabant;
"though I found a better mark there than a cantle of bull's hide. But
what is this, Englishman? The shield hangs not one hundred paces from
me, and a blind man could strike it." He screwed up his string to the
furthest pitch, and shot his quarrel at the dangling shield. Aylward,
who had drawn an arrow from his quiver, carefully greased the head of
it, and sped it at the same mark.

"Run, Wilkins," quoth he, "and fetch me the shield."

Long were the faces of the Englishmen and broad the laugh of the
crossbowmen as the heavy mantlet was carried towards them, for there in
the centre was the thick Brabant bolt driven deeply into the wood, while
there was neither sign nor trace of the cloth-yard shaft.

"By the three kings!" cried the Brabanter, "this time at least there is
no gainsaying which is the better weapon, or which the truer hand that
held it. You have missed the shield, Englishman."

"Tarry a bit! tarry a bit, mon gar.!" quoth Aylward, and turning round