John o’ the Wallfield was now making careful sight at the bull’s-eye; and all the assembly watched him close, for it had been whispered that but the day before he had made five bull’s-eye strokes with ne’er a break, and at the same distance as now. He had many friends among the younger men and maids; and these now called to him words of cheer and bade him show his mettle. Thus besought, he showed a skill that surprised us all and filled me with a worry I could scarce suppress. Four of his bolts landed fair within the white, and the fifth but barely missed it. At the target he was winner; and, a few years back, he had been the best of all the Mountjoy archers, save only Marvin himself, at striking the rolling ball. It began to seem that John o’ the Wallfield who had been brought into the match to make a third in the scoring, might end by leading off the prize. Next Marvin came to the mark to shoot at the rolling ball. All the yeomanry crowded round for a nearer view; and the knights and ladies left their benches and came forward that they might miss nothing of this strange test of archery. Now indeed did Marvin display something of the craft that had made him for so many years the leading archer of Mountjoy. Four of his bolts struck the swiftly running mark full squarely; and the fifth was wondrous close. When he had finished all the older yeomen and men-at-arms raised the shout of “Marvin! Marvin!” and some did already talk of bearing him aloft as winner of the day. For never in his life had the old marksman bettered the record he had just made at the rolling ball; and it was not believed an archer lived who could equal it. ’Twas Cedric’s turn to shoot next at this strange target. As he came forward he seemed to be more wrought upon than ever; and I bethought me that he bore but ill the fortunes of the day. He drew his bowstring to charge his weapon with a most unseemly twitch; and then exclaimed in wrath at a broken cord. “Ho!” he called, “I must lay me a new string, it seems. This one was sadly frayed, and now is gone. But let me not delay the match. Let John go on in my turn while I knot and stretch a stouter one.” Nothing loath, John stepped forward to the mark. My father gave the signal, and the ball rolled down the incline to the sward. Before it had bounded a half dozen paces it was pierced by John’s bolt; and there rose a great cry from all the younger men. Next came a miss; then another stroke; and the hubbub rose again. For the fourth and fifth shots, John aimed full carefully along the course the ball should go and before the word was given; but all his care availed him not, for both the bolts missed clean.