ere is something we do not wot of in that mysterious
overcoming of circumstances by great individuals: that apt and wondrous
conjuncture of THE HOUR AND THE MAN; and so, for my part, when I heard
the above remark of one of the archers, that Otto had never a feather
in his bonnet, I felt sure that a heron would spring up in the next
sentence to supply him with an aigrette.

And such indeed was the fact: rising out of a morass by which the
archers were passing, a gallant heron, arching his neck, swelling his
crest, placing his legs behind him, and his beak and red eyes against
the wind, rose slowly, and offered the fairest mark in the world.

"Shoot, Otto," said one of the archers. "You would not shoot just now at
a crow because it was a foul bird, nor at a hawk because it was a noble
bird; bring us down yon heron: it flies slowly."

But Otto was busy that moment tying his shoestring, and Rudolf, the
third best of the archers, shot at the bird and missed it.

"Shoot, Otto," said Wolfgang, a youth who had taken a liking to the
young archer: "the bird is getting further and further."

But Otto was busy that moment whittling a willow-twig he had just cut.
Max, the second best archer, shot and missed.

"Then," said Wolfgang, "I must try myself: a plague on you, young
springald, you have lost a noble chance!"

Wolfgang prepared himself with all his care, and shot at the bird. "It
is out of distance," said he, "and a murrain on the bird!"

Otto, who by this time had done whittling his willow-stick (having
carved a capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), flung the twig down
and said carelessly, "Out of distance! Pshaw! We have two minutes yet,"
and fell to asking riddles and cutting jokes; to the which none of the
archers listened, as they were all engaged, their noses in air, watching
the retreating bird.

"Where shall I hit him?" said Otto.

"Go to," said Rudolf, "thou canst see no limb of him: he is no bigger
than a flea."

"Here goes for his right eye!" said Otto; and stepping forward in the
English manner (which his godfather having learnt in Palestine, had
taught him), he brought his bowstring to his ear, took a good aim,
allowing for the wind and calculating the parabola to a nicety. Whiz!
his arrow went off.

He took up the willow-twig again and began carving a head of Rudolf at
the other end, chatting and laughing, and singing a ballad the while.

The archers, after standing a long time looking skywards