"'Tis he that hath but now so soundly cracked the crown of Eric of
Lincoln," was the reply.

The shooting presently began, and the targets soon showed a fine
reckoning. Last of all came the beggar's turn.

"By your leave," he said loudly, "I'd like it well to shoot with any
other man here present at a mark of my own placing." And he strode down
the lists with a slender peeled sapling which he stuck upright in the
ground. "There," said he, "is a right good mark. Will any man try it?"

But not an archer would risk his reputation on so small a target.

Whereupon the beggar drew his bow with seeming carelessness and split
the wand with his shaft.

"Long live the beggar!" yelled the bystanders.

The Sheriff swore a full great oath, and said: "This man is the best
archer that ever yet I saw." And he beckoned to him, and asked him: "How
now, good fellow, what is your name, and in what country were you born?"

"In Holderness I was born," the man replied; "men call me Reynold
Greenleaf."

"You are a sturdy fellow, Reynold Greenleaf, and deserve better apparel
than that you wear at present. Will you enter my service? I will give
you twenty marks a year, above your living, and three good suits of
clothes."