“Yermah of Tlamco, wilt thou capture the citadel of our hearts by a final test of skill before being crowned with the yew wreath?” When he could make himself heard, Yermah signified his willingness to comply with this request. For the first time in an hour Kerœcia caught sight of his face. It was pale, set and resolute, and she saw that the strain was telling on him. “The parrot shall cry thee aim, and must remain unharmed. Thou mayst kill the blue or the black bird, but thou must only release the peaceful dove. Wilt thou remember the conditions?” Satisfying this demand from the judges, Yermah came within range, and waited a favorable opportunity. By a sudden jerk of a cord extending down the side of the pole, the ball and crossbar began to revolve, and the birds were on the wing. “Chay! chay! chay!” shrieked the mocking, insolent bluejay. “Caw! caw! caw!” croaked the raven; while the parrot screamed banteringly; “Boy what ails thee? Come on! Ha! ha! ha! Oh, dear! Ah! ha! ha!—Sit still! Who will catch thy barb? I’ll catch it? Thou fool, never!” Then changing tone entirely to one of biting sarcasm: “Here’s a pretty mess—a pretty mess!” There was silence for a time. Then in a thin, piping voice and ludicrous intonation: “I shall faint! I shall expire! Help! help!” screeched the bird. Then, she became sympathetic: “That’s bad, very bad! What a poor shot! Dear me! Ha! ha! ha! ha-ha-ha-ha! Aim high! aim low! don’t aim at all! Ah! ha! ha! ha—ha! ha! ha! ha!” The parrot was chained to the top of the pole, so that it could not fly. To make the aim more difficult the other birds were fastened by cords of unequal length. Each one must be freed by the arrow, and then the marksman must wing it before it escaped. The first liberated was the bluejay. Yermah cut the cord neatly, and then hit the bird while it was still rising. The arrow fell near the base of the pole, bringing the right wing with it. The Dorado had won the yew wreath, and he now turned to the women’s side of the pavilion for a signal. They could demand the last three shots. Would they do it? He waited for Kerœcia to say. She was surrounded by a perfect rabble, gesticulating, shouting and leaning eagerly toward her. Finally, she arose, and threw up her hand to command silence. In the lull, she turned to Yermah, who removed his helmet and inclined his head toward her, while she picked up a black flag and waved it. There was an answering shout and a cheer and Yermah prepared to shoot again. This time he aimed at the raven. He cut the cord near the pole, and its weight caused the bird to fly downward in an oblique line. Quick as a flash the second arrow sped, and the raven came down pierced through the heart.