Otto laughingly whistled the "Huntsman's Chorus," and said, "No, my
friend. It was a lucky shot: only a lucky shot. I was taught shooting,
look you, in the fashion of merry England, where the archers are archers
indeed."
And so he cut off the heron's wing for a plume for his hat; and the
archers walked on, much amazed, and saying, "What a wonderful country
that merry England must be!"
Far from feeling any envy at their comrade's success, the jolly archers
recognized his superiority with pleasure; and Wolfgang and Rudolf
especially held out their hands to the younker, and besought the honor
of his friendship. They continued their walk all day, and when night
fell made choice of a good hostel you may be sure, where over beer,
punch, champagne, and every luxury, they drank to the health of the
Duke of Cleves, and indeed each other's healths all round. Next day they
resumed their march, and continued it without interruption, except to
take in a supply of victuals here and there (and it was found on these
occasions that Otto, young as he was, could eat four times as much as
the oldest archer present, and drink to correspond); and these continued
refreshments having given them more than ordinary strength, they
determined on making rather a long march of it, and did not halt till
after nightfall at the gates of the little town of Windeck.
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