You
pay the entrance fee and take your chances."
Edward went to the president and spoke to
him in a low voice. The result was that he
advanced to Carl, and said, courteously:
"If you would like to enter into our games,
you are quite at liberty to do so."
"Thank you," responded Carl. "I have had
a little practice in archery, and will enter my
name for that prize."
He paid over his quarter and received back
fifteen cents in change. It seemed rather an
imprudent outlay, considering his small capital;
but he had good hopes of carrying off the prize,
and that would be a great lift for him.
Seven boys entered besides Carl. The first was
Victor Russell, a lad of fourteen, whose arrow
went three feet above the mark.
"The prize is mine if none of you do better
than that," laughed Victor, good-naturedly.
"I hope not, for the credit of the club," said
the president. "Mr. Crawford, will you shoot next?"
"I would prefer to be the last," said Carl, modestly.
"John Livermore, your turn now."
John came a little nearer than his predecessor,
but did not distinguish himself.
"If that is a specimen of the skill of the clubmen,"
thought Carl, "my chance is a good one."
Next came Frank Stockton, whose arrow stuck
only three inches from the center of the target.
"Good for Fred!" cried Edward Downie.
"Just wait till you see me shoot!"
"Are you a dangerous rival?" asked Carl, smiling.
"I can hit a barn door if I am only near enough," replied Edward.
"Edward Downie!" called the president.
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