"It is a wonderful weapon," he said, "and I should not have thought that mortal man, whatever his color, could have used it. Now, let us go down into the practice yard. "Cuitcatl, do you fetch the queen and her ladies, to look on." "I am no great marksman, Prince," Roger said. "I am perhaps somewhat better than an average shot, but I have seen marksmen who could do feats that I would not even attempt." They descended to the piece of ground, where many of the young nobles were engaged in shooting, and in practice with arms. Roger had often been there before, but had carefully abstained from taking any part in the mimic contests; for he knew that men who are beaten sometimes feel malice, and he was anxious to keep on the best terms with all. Cuitcatl had often urged him to try a bout with himself, or others, with the sword; but this, too, he had always declined, and his friend had supposed that he was aware his skill was by no means equal to his strength. But now the Spaniards had proved to the Mexicans the fighting powers of white men, Roger had no longer any reasons for hanging back. As soon as he was seen approaching with Cacama, the Mexicans abandoned their sport, and gathered round. The story of the defeat of a band of Montezuma's soldiers by the white man had been whispered abroad, and Cuitcatl had mentioned to his friends what he had heard, from Bathalda, of the mighty bow Roger had used; but when they saw the weapon with which he was now provided, their wonder was to a large extent mingled with incredulity. They passed it from hand to hand, tried but in vain to bend it, and murmured among themselves that the thing was impossible. "What will you have for your mark," Cacama asked. "One of these targets will do well enough," he said, pointing to those at which the Mexicans had been shooting. These were boards about five feet six in height, and some fourteen inches in width, presenting the size of a man. They were painted white and supported by a leg hinged behind them. The distance at which the Mexicans had been shooting was about forty yards. Roger stepped a hundred from one of them, and made a mark upon the ground. "An English archer would laugh at a target like that," he said to Cacama, "but it is nigh three years since I practiced. I have seen men who could with certainty, at this distance, hit a bird the size of a pigeon sitting on the top of that target, twenty times in succession, and think it by no means extraordinary shooting." The queen and some of her ladies now appeared upon a terrace looking down into the courtyard. Roger took the bow, fitted an arrow to the string, and drew it to his ear--a murmur of astonishment rising from the Aztecs. There was a pause for a moment, and then the arrow sped. There was a sharp tap as it struck the target, and stood quivering in it just in the center line about four feet from the ground.