teen train, which would bring him home too late
for the archery meeting. So he gave me the badge, asking me to hand it
to the president, that he might bestow it on the successful competitor
that afternoon.

We were all rather glad that the champion was obliged to be absent.
Here was a chance for some one of us to win the badge. It was not,
indeed, an opportunity for us to win a great deal of honor, for if the
champion were to be there we should have no chance at all. But we were
satisfied with this much, having no reason--in the present, at
least--to expect anything more.

So we went to the targets with a new zeal, and most of us shot better
than we had ever shot before. In this number was O. J. Hollingsworth.
He excelled himself, and, what was worse, he excelled all the rest of
us. He actually made a score of eighty-five in twenty-four shots,
which at that time was remarkably good shooting, for our club. This
was dreadful! To have a fellow who didn't know how to shoot beat us
all was too bad. If any visitor who knew anything at all of archery
should see that the member who wore the champion's badge was a man who
held his bow as if he had the stomach-ache, it would ruin our character
as a club. It was not to be borne.

Pepton in particular felt greatly outraged. We had met very promptly
that afternoon, and had finished our regular shooting much earlier than
usual; and now a knot of us were gathered together, talking over this
unfortunate occurrence.

"I don't intend to stand it," Pepton suddenly exclaimed. "I feel it as
a personal disgrace. I'm going to have the champion here before dark.
By the rules, he has a right to shoot until the president declares it
is too late. Some of you fellows stay here, and I'll bring him."

And away he ran, first giving me charge of his precious bow. There was
no need of his asking us to stay. We were bound to see the fun out,
and to fill up the time our president offered a special prize of a
handsome bouquet from his gardens, to be shot for by the ladies.

Pepton ran to the railroad station, and telegraphed to the champion.
This was his message:

"You are absolutely needed here. If possible, take the five-thirty
train for Ackford. I will drive over for you. Answer."

There was no train before the six-fifteen by which the champion could
come directly to our village; but Ackford, a small town about three
miles distant, was on another railroad, on which there