examined it critically. Then setting the end against his foot he strung it, snapping the cord over the horn so that it rang with a musical twang.
"This," he said, "is more suited to the nerveless hand of a worn-out warrior, my lady."
At a sign from his father, Edgar stepped forward and shooting carefully, lodged an arrow in the center of the target. Edgar lowered his bow with a smile he could not repress, and the baron clapped his hands.
"Aha, old Hugh!" he cried, "the youngsters too have found out the use of a piece of yew, a clothyard stick and the gray-goose feather!"
"No archer can do more than make a center shot," said the old soldier, good-humoredly. "But if a young archer fixes a center, an old one should be able to put the ring around it!" And selecting four arrows, Hugh discharged them so rapidly that they struck the target like four quick blows from a hammer. Then after a pause, the spectators shouted applause, for all four had been so skillfully aimed that they formed a cross, of which Edgar's arrow was the center, and the four were at almost the same distance, above, below, and on each side.
"What say you, my son?" asked the baron, who was delighted with the victory of his old
