an archer, now in question. Pride upheld
him. The third arrow he fitted properly to the string, he planted his
left foot slightly in advance, and looked steadfastly at the horsemen
before he drew his bow.

At a distance of one hundred and fifty yards they had paused, and were
widening out so as to advance in loose open rank and allow each man to
throw his javelin. They shouted; the spearmen in the circle replied, and
levelled their spears. Felix fixed his eye on one of the gipsies who was
ordering and marshalling the rest, a chief. He drew the arrow swiftly
but quietly, the string hummed, the pliant yew obeyed, and the long
arrow shot forward in a steady swift flight like a line of gossamer
drawn through the air. It missed the chief, but pierced the horse he
rode just in front of the rider's thigh. The maddened horse reared and
fell backwards on his rider.

The spearmen shouted. Before the sound could leave their lips another
arrow had sped; a gipsy threw up his arms with a shriek; the arrow had
gone through his body. A third, a fourth, a fifth--six gipsies rolled on
the sward. Shout upon shout rent the air from the spearmen. Utterly
unused to this mode of fighting, the gipsies fell back. Still the fatal
arrows pursued them, and ere they were out of range three others fell.
Now the rage of battle burned in Felix; his eyes gleamed, his lips were
open, his nostrils wide like a horse running a race. He shouted to the
spearmen to follow him, and snatching up his quiver ran forward.
Gathered together in a group, the gipsy band consulted.

Felix ran at full speed; swift of foot, he left the heavy spearmen
behind. Alone he approached the horsemen; all the Aquila courage was up
within him. He kept the higher ground as he ran, and stopped suddenly on
a little knoll or tumulus. His arrow flew, a gipsy fell. Again, and a
third. Their anger gave them fresh courage; to be repulsed by one only!
Twenty of them started to charge and run him down. The keen arrows flew
faster than their horses' feet. Now the horse and now the man met those
sharp points. Six fell; the rest returned. The shepherds came running;
Felix ordered them to charge the gipsies. His success gave him
authority; they obeyed; and as they charged, he shot nine more arrows;
nine more deadly wounds. Suddenly the gipsy band turned and fled into
the brushwood on the lower slopes.

Breathless, Felix sat down on the knoll, and the spearmen swarmed around
him. Hardly had t