“Why could you not keep your hat upon your head, man?” said she, in her masculine tone. “You have been almost the ruin of my poor uniform habit; but I’ve escaped rather better than you have. Don’t stand there, in the middle of the circle, or you’ll have an arrow in your eyes just now, I’ve a notion.” Hal looked round in search of better friends. “Oh, where’s my uncle?—where’s Ben?” said he. He was in such confusion, that, amongst the number of faces, he could scarcely distinguish one from another; but he felt somebody at this moment pull his elbow, and, to his great relief, he heard the friendly voice, and saw the good natured face of his Cousin Ben. “Come back; come behind these people,” said Ben, “and put on my great-coat; here it is for you.” Right glad was Hal to cover his disgraced uniform with the rough great-coat which he had formerly despised. He pulled the stained, drooping cockade out of his unfortunate hat; and he was now sufficiently recovered from his vexation to give an intelligible account of his accident to his uncle and Patty, who anxiously inquired what had detained him so long, and what had been the matter. In the midst of the history of his disaster, he was just proving to Patty that his taking the hatband to spin his top had nothing to do with his misfortune, and he was at the same time endeavouring to refute his uncle’s opinion that the waste of the whipcord that tied the parcel was the original cause of all his evils, when he was summoned to try his skill with his _famous_ bow. “My hands are benumbed; I can scarcely feel,” said he, rubbing them, and blowing upon the ends of his fingers. “Come, come,” cried young Sweepstakes, “I’m within one inch of the mark; who’ll go nearer? I shall like to see. Shoot away, Hal; but first understand our laws; we settled them before you came upon the green. You are to have three shots, with your own bow and your own arrows; and nobody’s to borrow or lend under pretence of other’s bows being better or worse, or under any pretence. Do you hear, Hal?” This young gentleman had good reasons for being so strict in these laws, as he had observed that none of his companions had such an excellent bow as he had provided for himself. Some of the boys had forgotten to bring more than one arrow with them, and by his cunning regulation that each person should shoot with their own arrows, many had lost one or two of their shots. “You are a lucky fellow; you have your three arrows,” said young Sweepstakes. “Come, we can’t wait whilst you rub your fingers, man—shoot away.”