trial. The first three sped their shafts, and while they were fair shots
they did not more than graze the inner circle.

Rob took his stand with some misgiving. Some flecking clouds overhead
made the light uncertain, and a handful of wind frolicked across the
range in a way quite disturbing to a bowman's nerves. His eyes wandered
for a brief moment to the box wherein sat the dark-eyed girl. His heart
leaped! she met his glance and smiled at him reassuringly. And in that
moment he felt that she knew him despite his disguise and looked to him
to keep the honor of old Sherwood. He drew his bow firmly and, taking
advantage of a momentary lull in the breeze, launched the arrow straight
and true-singing across the range to the center of the target.

"The beggar! the beggar! a bull! a bull!" yelled the fickle mob,
who from jeering him were now his warm friends. "Can you beat that,
Blinder?"

The last archer smiled scornfully and made ready. He drew his bow with
ease and grace and, without seeming to study the course, released the
winged arrow. Forward it leaped toward the target, and all eyes followed
its flight. A loud uproar broke forth when it alighted, just without the
center and grazing the shaft sent by Rob. The stranger made a gesture
of surprise when his own eyes announced the result to him, but saw his
error. He had not allowed for the fickle gust of wind which seized the
arrow and carried it to one side. But for all that he was the first to
congratulate the victor.

"I hope we may shoot again," quoth he. "In truth I care not for the
golden bauble and wished to win it in despite of the Sheriff for whom I
have no love. Now crown the lady of your choice." And turning suddenly