s went beyond the second ring, to her great disappointment. Billy
did very well, but got nervous when his last shot came, and just missed
the bull's-eye by being in a hurry.

Bab and Ben each had one turn more, and as they were about even, that
last arrow would decide the victory. Both had sent a shot into the
bull's-eye, but neither was exactly in the middle; so there was room to
do better, even, and the children crowded round, crying eagerly, "Now,
Ben!" "Now, Bab!" "Hit her up, Ben!" "Beat him, Bab!" while Thorny
looked as anxious as if the fate of the country depended on the success
of his man. Bab's turn came first, and as Miss Celia examined her bow to
see that all was right, the little girl said, with her eyes on her
rival's excited face:

"I want to beat, but Ben will feel _so_ bad, I 'most hope I sha'n't."

"Losing a prize sometimes makes one happier than gaining it. You have
proved that you could do better than most of them, so, if you do not
beat, you may still feel proud," answered Miss Celia, giving back the
bow with a smile that said more than her words.

It seemed to give Bab a new idea, for in a minute all sorts of
recollections, wishes and plans, rushed through her lively little mind,
and she followed a sudden generous impulse as blindly as she often did a
willful one.

"I guess he'll beat," she said, softly, with a quick sparkle of the
eyes, as she stepped to her place and fired without taking her usual
careful aim.

[Illustration: PRACTICING FOR THE MATCH.]

Her shot struck almost as near the center on the right as her last one
had hit on the left, and there was a shout of delight from the girls as
Thorny announced it before he hurried back to Ben, whispering anxiously:

"Steady, old man, steady; you _must_ beat that, or we shall never hear
the last of it."

Ben did not say, "She wont get ahead of me," as he had said at the
first; he set his teeth, threw off his hat, and knitting his brows with
a resolute expression, prepared to take steady aim, though his heart
beat fast, and his thumb trembled as he pressed it on the bow-string.

"I hope you'll beat, I truly do," said Bab, at his elbow; and as if the
breath that framed the generous wish helped it on its way, the arrow
flew straight to the bull's-eye, hitting, apparently, the very spot
where Bab's best shot had left a hole.

"A tie! a tie!" cried the girls, as a general rush took place toward the
target.

"No; Ben's is nearest. Ben's b