Extremely light, highly elastic but tough yew from the forests of Oregon was substituted for the heavier bow of the chase; and the arrows had finely pointed obsidian heads, notched and smooth, but sharp as a needle. Yermah looked well to the sweetness of his clear, clean, lemon-colored bow. When satisfied that it had the requisite softness of flexure and recoil, and that the arrows were properly seasoned, he placed one on the left side of the bow, above, and resting on the forefinger knuckle of the clenched left hand, with its notch set on the string. The first three fingers of the right hand hooked around the string, keeping the arrow-notch between the first and second. Extending the left arm vigorously but steadily, Yermah drew the string back with his right hand to just below the chin—and loosed. He stood with his left shoulder toward the target, looking straight in that direction, having the heels well apart, and toes turned out, leaving his legs straight, but not stiff. Raising his bow gracefully with the left hand, he drew the arrow four-fifths of its length, aimed over the arrow-tip, drew again, and let fly! The spectators were quick to see that he made the four points perfectly. Each element of the draw, aim, finish, and loose required the greatest nicety of execution; yet, he sped the arrows with almost incredible swiftness. When shooting three at once, Yermah used the three sights—center, above and below aim-points. His control of the loose was so accurate, he understood the variation of vision between the right and left eye so well, that he drove all three arrows into the gold within a quarter of an inch of each other! By the rules, he must aim above center at one hundred yards, and there was not one of the seventy-two arrows, whether sped singly or in threes, that hit below the mark. At eighty yards he was obliged to aim blankly with the four dozen arrows loosed at this distance. He chose the outer circle of white, and planted his darts at equidistance around the entire circle. “But one more fort remains to be captured, and the Atlantian still leads,” announced the judges. “Clear the enclosure! Warriors, do your duty!” With this, the men made a rush for their seats, not waiting for the spear-points the warriors were preparing to level at them. In the noise, confusion and excitement no one paid attention to the birds, perched on top of the pole supporting the target. There was a bluejay, a raven, a white dove, and a green parrot, with strong cords attached to one leg of each, sitting on a crossbar or else on the gilt ball at the apex. Now every one suddenly remembered, and interest redoubled in the final score at the sixty-yard limit. “Yermah of Tlamco fails with two points out of twenty-four shots, below aim-point. Two are above the center line. Hanabusa looses six, and Ben Hu Barabe, four. Shall the victor take the citadel?” “Merit wins him a shot at the birds,” came from all sides.