The stubborn pride of three races was in the struggle, and bitter defeat awaited some one. It was strictly a war function. There were precision, rigid enforcement of rules, and exactness in the attitude in which the warriors stood—motionless and impassive, while the three contestants marched in step to warlike music through the entrance and halted at the first vantage-ground. The three men bowed and smiled in recognition of the plaudits showered upon them right and left, as they watched for the signal. A refreshing breeze fanned their faces and set all the flags in motion. Yermah was in full regimentals as commander-in-chief. Scarlet, purple, gold, and green were his colors; but they were blended with all the skill of the ancients, so that they fitly set his personality. Ben Hu Barabe showed his insignia as Civil Chief and defender of Anokia, while Hanabusa was resplendent in feathers and jewels. Yermah felt that he was the doubtful one. His glance rested for a moment on the anxious faces of his followers, but he was cool, confident and collected. There was something magnetically infectious in his encouraging smile, and before he had touched a bow, he had the undivided attention of the assemblage. Hanabusa and Ben Hu Barabe seemed dwarfed beside him. His easy, nonchalant bearing, his unconscious grace were never more conspicuous. Still, Yermah was an alien. He stood in their midst a stranger, and fully comprehended that the loyalty of his own men would be severely tried if he failed to acquit himself with credit. Over in the pavilion were a pair of luminous, mastic brown eyes, with glints of bronze in their depths, which were bent upon him eagerly. He could feel them drawing him in that direction, but he did not trust himself to return their questioning gaze. There were neither knots, gnarls, nor cracks in the waxy brown six-foot hunting bow of continuous straight-grained mulberry used in the first trial. Its tips were of polished elk-horn, and there was a green chamois handhold in the center of the elaborate carving. The well-seasoned hickory arrows, forty inches long and as smooth as glass, carried flint-heads three and a half inches wide, and two inches broad, with sharp saw-teeth edges. There was a trinity of peacock feather vanes outlined in parabola above the notch end. Courtesy gave Yermah the first shot. As he pulled a stout buckskin shield over his right hand, he looked full into Kerœcia’s face. His eyes said: “Trust me. I shall not fail.” Under the inspiration of her answering nod, he quickly raised the bow from the ground and placed it against his knee-cap, thereby securing a good purchase. With an upward body movement, he drew the long bow to its fullest capacity, faced the target and let fly.