,
however, he had not hit it, and, with a downcast look, he withdrew
himself from further competition, and hastened to disappear from the
assembly, as if fearful of being recognised. The green chasseur next
advanced, and his ball a second time struck the popinjay. All shouted;
and from the outskirts of the assembly arose a cry of, "The good old
cause for ever!"

While the dignitaries bent their brows at these exulting shouts of the
disaffected, the young Lord Evandale advanced again to the hazard, and
again was successful. The shouts and congratulations of the well-affected
and aristocratical part of the audience attended his success, but still a
subsequent trial of skill remained.

The green marksman, as if determined to bring the affair to a decision,
took his horse from a person who held him, having previously looked
carefully to the security of his girths and the fitting of his saddle,
vaulted on his back, and motioning with his hand for the bystanders to
make way, set spurs, passed the place from which he was to fire at a
gallop, and, as he passed, threw up the reins, turned sideways upon his
saddle, discharged his carabine, and brought down the popinjay. Lord
Evandale imitated his example, although many around him said it was an
innovation on the established practice, which he was not obliged to
follow. But his skill was not so perfect, or his horse was not so well
trained. The animal swerved at the moment his master fired, and the ball
missed the popinjay. Those who had been surprised by the address of the
green marksman were now equally pleased by his courtesy. He disclaimed
all merit from the last shot, and proposed to his antagonist that it
should not be counted as a hit, and that they should renew the contest on
foot.

"I would prefer horseback, if I had a horse as well bitted, and,
probably, as well broken to the exercise, as yours," said the young Lord,
addressing his antagonist.

"Will you do me the honour to use him for the next trial, on condition
you will lend me yours?" said the young gentleman.

Lord Evandale was ashamed to accept this courtesy, as conscious how much
it would diminish the value of victory; and yet, unable to suppress his
wish to redeem his reputation as a marksman, he added, "that although he
renounced all pretensions to the honour of the day," (which he said
some-what scornfully,) "yet, if the victor had no particular objection,
he would willingly embrace his obliging offer, an