The trumpets sounding proclaimed
that the sports were about to commence.
Is it necessary to describe them? No: that has already been done in the
novel of "Ivanhoe" before mentioned. Fancy the archers clad in Lincoln
green, all coming forward in turn, and firing at the targets. Some hit,
some missed; those that missed were fain to retire amidst the jeers of
the multitudinous spectators. Those that hit began new trials of skill;
but it was easy to see, from the first, that the battle lay between
Squintoff (the Rowski archer) and the young hero with the golden hair
and the ivory bow. Squintoff's fame as a marksman was known throughout
Europe; but who was his young competitor? Ah? there was ONE heart in the
assembly that beat most anxiously to know. 'Twas Helen's.
The crowning trial arrived. The bull's eye of the target, set up at
three-quarters of a mile distance from the archers, was so small, that
it required a very clever man indeed to see, much more to hit it; and as
Squintoff was selecting his arrow for the final trial, the Rowski flung
a purse of gold towards his archer, saying--"Squintoff, an ye win the
prize, the purse is thine." "I may as well pocket it at once, your
honor," said the bowman with a sneer at Otto. "This young chick, who has
been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such a mark as that.
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