standers.

"Holy Saint Dunstan! there's but one man who can beat me in that sort
that I know of," muttered Nicholas, "and I little expected to see him
take a bite out of his own hip." With that he approached his successful
rival.

"Well, Master Marmaduke," said he, "it is many a year since you showed
me that trick at your father, Sir Guy's--God rest him! But I scarce take
it kind in you to beat your own countryman!"

"Beshrew me!" cried the youth, and his cheerful features brightened into
hearty and cordial pleasure, "but if I see in thee, as it seems to me,
my old friend and foster-brother, Nick Alwyn, this is the happiest hour
I have known for many a day. But stand back and let me look at thee,
man. Thou! thou a tame London trader! Ha! ha! is it possible?"

"Hout, Master Marmaduke," answered Nicholas, "every crow thinks his own
baird bonniest, as they say in the North. We will talk of this anon an'
thou wilt honour me. I suspect the archery is over now. Few will think
to mend that shot."

And here, indeed, the umpires advanced, and their chief--an old mercer,
who had once borne arms, and indeed been a volunteer at the battle of
Towton--declared that the contest was over,--"unless," he added, in
the spirit of a lingering fellow-feeling with the Londoner, "this young
fellow, whom I hope to see an alderman one of these days, will demand
another shot, for as yet there hath been but one prick each at the
butts."

"Nay, master," returned Alwyn, "I have met with my betters,--and, after
all," he added indifferently, "the silver arrow, though a pretty bauble
enough, is over light in its weight."

"Worshipful sir," said the young Nevile, with equal generosity, "I
cannot accept the prize for a mere trick of the craft,--the blanc was
already disposed of by Master Alwyn's arrow. Moreover; the contest was
intended for the Londoners, and I am but an interloper, beholden to
their courtesy for a practice of skill, and even the loan of a bow;
wherefore the silver arrow be given to Nicholas Alwyn."

"That may not be, gentle sir," said the umpire, extending the prize.
"Sith Alwyn vails of himself, it is thine, by might and by right."

The Lord Montagu had not been inattentive to this dialogue, and he
now said, in a loud tone that silenced the crowd, "Young Badgeman, thy
gallantry pleases me no less than thy skill. Take the arrow, for thou
hast won it; but as thou seemest a new comer, it is right thou shouldst
pay thy tax upon