were frequent
afternoon trains.

The champion answered:

"All right. Meet me."

Then Pepton rushed to our livery stable, hired a horse and buggy, and
drove to Ackford.

A little after half-past six, when several of us were beginning to
think that Pepton had failed in his plans, he drove rapidly into the
grounds, making a very short turn at the gate, and pulled up his
panting horse just in time to avoid running over three ladies, who were
seated on the grass. The champion was by his side!

The latter lost no time in talking or salutations. He knew what he had
been brought there to do, and he immediately set about trying to do it.
He took Pepton's bow, which the latter urged upon him. He stood up,
straight and firm on the line, at thirty-five yards from the
gentlemen's target; he carefully selected his arrows, examining the
feathers and wiping away any bit of soil that might be adhering to the
points after some one had shot them into the turf; with vigorous arm he
drew each arrow to its head; he fixed his eyes and his whole mind on
the centre of the target; he shot his twenty-four arrows, handed to
him, one by one, by Pepton, and he made a score of ninety-one.

The whole club had been scoring the shots, as they were made, and when
the last arrow plumped into the red ring, a cheer arose from every
member excepting three: the champion, the president, and O. J.
Hollingsworth. But Pepton cheered loudly enough to make up these
deficiencies.

"What in the mischief did they cheer him for?" asked Hollingsworth of
me. "They didn't cheer me when I beat everybody on the grounds an hour
ago. And it's no new thing for him to win the badge; he does it every
time."

"Well," said I, frankly, "I think the club, AS a club, objects to your
wearing the badge, because you don't know how to shoot."

"Don't know how to shoot!" he cried. "Why, I can hit the target better
than any of you. Isn't that what you try to do when you shoot?"

"Yes," said I, "of course that is what we try to do. But we try to do
it in the proper way."

"Proper grandmother!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't seem to help you much.
The best thing you fellows can do is to learn to shoot my way, and then
perhaps you may be able to hit oftener."

When the champion had finished shooting he went home to his dinner, but
many of us stood about, talking over our great escape.

"I feel as if I had done that myself," said Pepton. "I am almost as
proud as if