The Magic Egg, and Other StoriesStockton, Frank R.
Science
The Magic Egg, and Other Stories
Stockton, Frank R.
Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Indeed, I think it was the truth that Pepton was born not to be an
archer. There were young fellows in the club who shot with bows that
cost no more than Pepton's tassels, but who could stand up and whang
arrows into the targets all the afternoon, if they could get a chance;
and there were ladies who made hits five times out of six; and there
were also all the grades of archers common to any club. But there was
no one but himself in Pepton's grade. He stood alone, and it was never
any trouble to add up his score.
Yet he was not discouraged. He practised every day except Sundays, and
indeed he was the only person in the club who practised at night. When
he told me about this, I was a little surprised.
"Why, it's easy enough," said he. "You see, I hung a lantern, with a
reflector, before the target, just a little to one side. It lighted up
the target beautifully, and I believe there was a better chance of
hitting it than by daylight, for the only thing you could see was the
target, and so your attention was not distracted. To be sure," he
said, in answer to a question, "it was a good deal of trouble to find
the arrows, but that I always have. When I get so expert that I can
put all the arrows into the target, there will be no trouble of the
kind, night or day. However," he continued, "I don't practise any more
by night. The other evening I sent an arrow slam-bang into the
lantern, and broke it all to flinders. Borrowed lantern, too.
Besides, I found it made Miss Martha very nervous to have me shooting
about the house after dark. She had a friend who had a little boy who
was hit in the leg by an arrow from a bow, which, she says,
accidentally went off in the night, of its own accord. She is
certainly a little mixed in her mind in regard to this matter, but I
wish to respect her feelings, and so shall not use another lantern."
As I have said, there were many good archers among the ladies of our
club. Some of them, after we had been organized for a month or two,
made scores that few of the gentlemen could excel. But the lady who
attracted the greatest attention when she shot was Miss Rosa.
When this very pretty young lady stood up before the ladies'
target--her left side well advanced, her bow firmly held out in her
strong left arm, which never quivered, her head a little bent to the
right, her arrow drawn back by three well-gloved fingers to the tip of
her little ear, her dark eyes steadily fixed upon the gold, and her
dress, well fitted over her fine and vigorous figure, falling in
graceful folds about her feet, we all stopped shooting to look at her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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