anger. However, he made a pretty shot, and a
round of cheering met his effort.

The beggar took the bow which one of the archers held out to him, and
fitted his arrow to it with a great show of care. When at last he
released the arrow all got ready to laugh and jeer at him.

He contrived, however, to surprise them once again, for his arrow was
found to be a full inch nearer the middle of the mark than all the
others.

They shot again and again, and at length Arthur-a-Bland lodged his shaft
in the center of the target. "Now mend that shot, Master Patch, an you
can," cried he.

"Nay, I fear that I must now yield the prize to you, gossip," declared
the beggar. "Yet I will even do my best."

He aimed with every circumstance of effort, and flew his shaft with a
loud sigh. It rose up high in the air as though it must fly altogether
wide of the target, and folk had already opened their mouths to laugh,
when suddenly it dropped in a graceful curve towards the mark, the steel
point struck exactly on the point of the other's arrow, just where it
had lodged loosely in the bull, and Master Bland's arrow came tumbling
to the ground, leaving the beggar's shaft shaking in the very hole its
opponent's arrow had made.

This wondrous feat of archery evoked the loudest applause, and had not
the Sheriff been so foolish a man, must have awakened suspicion in his
breast. But, no--Master Monceux pompously gave over the Arab horse with
its saddle, and the purse of gold to the victorious beggar; and then
turned to leave the sports.

He bade Master Carfax to see that the beggar did not go far away. The
Sheriff did not mean to lose his gifts so easily. But the beggar was
very willing to keep near to the Sheriff, and asked very humbly that he
might be given a place in Monceux's household, instead of taking this
horse, which was of small use to one of his trade.

"I will accept your offer," said Monceux, "on the understanding that you
will take the captaincy of my archers."

With such a fellow as this in his household Monceux felt that he would
soon lay Robin Hood by the heels. So he strutted to his horse, and was
lifted thereon in fine self-satisfaction. His daughter mounted her
palfrey, and Carfax led the beast gently, whilst the maids had to hurry
over the rough stones as best they might.

The beggar gripped his staff and limped along beside the women. His
roving eye implored a glance from the grey-blue eyes of the maid who had
sat