CHAPTER XXXIV. HOW THE COMPANY MADE SPORT IN THE VALE OF PAMPELUNA.

ercamerunningtosaythatthearrowhadfallentwentypacesbeyondthefourthwand. “Fourhundredpacesandascore,”criedBlackSimon.“I'faith,itisaverylongflight.Yetwoodandsteelmaydomorethanfleshandblood.” TheBrabantersteppedforwardwithasmileofconscioustriumph,andloosedthecordofhisweapon.Ashoutburstfromhiscomradesastheywatchedtheswiftandloftyflightoftheheavybolt. “Overthefourth!”groanedAylward.“Bymyhilt!Ithinkthatitiswelluptothefifth.” “Itisoverthefifth!”criedaGasconloudly,andacomradecamerunningwithwavingarmstosaythatthebolthadpitchedeightpacesbeyondthemarkofthefivehundred. “Whichweaponhaththevantagenow?”criedtheBrabanter,struttingproudlyaboutwithshoulderedarbalest,amidtheapplauseofhiscompanions. “Youcanovershootme,”saidJohnstongently. “Oranyothermanwhoeverbentalong-bow,”criedhisvictoriousadversary. “Nay,notsofast,”saidahugearcher,whosemightyshouldersandredheadtoweredhighabovethethrongofhiscomrades.“Imusthaveawordwithyouereyoucrowsoloudly.Whereismylittlepopper?BysaintedDickofHampole!itwillbeastrangethingifIcannotoutshootthatthingofthine,whichtomyeyesismorelikearat-trapthanabow.Willyoutryanotherflight,ordoyoustandbyyourlast?” “Fivehundredandeightpaceswillservemyturn,”answeredtheBrabanter,lookingaskanceatthisnewopponent. “Tut,John,”whisperedAylward,“youneverwereamarksman.Whymustyouthrustyourspoonintothisdish?” “Easyandslow,Aylward.ThereareverymanythingswhichIcannotdo,buttherearealsooneortwowhichIhavethetrickof.ItisinmymindthatIcanbeatthisshoot,ifmybowwillbutholdtogether.” “Goon,oldbabeofthewoods!”“Haveatit,Hampshire!”criedthearcherslaughing. “Bymysoul!youmaygrin,”criedJohn.“ButIlearnedhowtomakethelongshootfromoldHobMillerofMilford.”Hetookupagreatblackbow,ashespoke,andsittingdownuponthegroundheplacedhistwofeetoneitherendofthestave.Withanarrowfitted,hethenpulledthestringtowardshimwithbothhandsuntiltheheadoftheshaftwaslevelwiththewood.Thegreatbowcreakedandgroanedandthecordvibratedwiththetension. “Whoisthisfool's-headwhostandsinthewayofmyshoot?”saidhe,craninguphisneckfromtheground. “Hestandsonthefurthersideofmymark,”answeredtheBrabanter,“sohehaslittletofearfromyou.” “Well,thesaintsassoilhim!”criedJohn.“ThoughIthinkheisover-neartobescathed.”Ashespokeheraisedhistwofeet,withthebow-staveupontheirsoles,andhiscordtwangedwithadeeprichhumwhichmightbeheardacrossthevalley.Themeasurerinthedistancefellflatuponhisface,andthenjumpingupagain,hebegantorunintheoppositedirection. “Wellshot,oldlad!Itisindeedoverhishead,”criedthebowmen. “MonDieu!”exclaimedtheBrabanter,“whoeversawsuchashoot?” “Itisbutatrick,”quothJohn.“ManyatimehaveIwonagallonofalebycoveringamileinthreeflightsdownWilverleyChase.” “Itfellahundredandthirtypacesbeyondthefifthmark,”shoutedanarcherinthedistance. “Sixhundredandthirtypaces!MonDieu!butthatisashoot!Andyetitsaysnothingforyourweapon,mongroscamarade,foritwasbyturningyourselfintoacrossbowthatyoudidit.” “Bymyhilt!thereistruthinthat,”criedAylward.“Andnow,friend,Iwillmyselfshowyouavantageofthelong-bow.Iprayyoutospeedaboltagainstyondershieldwithallyourforce.Itisaninchofelmwithbull'shideoverit.” “IscarceshotasmanyshaftsatBrignais,”growledthemanofBrabant“thoughIfoundabettermarktherethanacantleofbull'shide.Butwhatisthis,Englishman?Theshieldhangsnotonehundredpacesfromme,andablindmancouldstrikeit.”Hescreweduphisstringtothefurthestpitch,andshothisquarrelatthedanglingshield.Aylward,