Edward took his bow and advanced to the proper place,
bent it, and the arrow sped on its way.
There was a murmur of surprise when his
arrow struck only an inch to the right of the
centre. No one was more amazed than Edward
himself, for he was accounted far from
skillful. It was indeed a lucky accident.
"What do you say to that?" asked Edward,
triumphantly.
"I think the prize is yours. I had no idea
you could shoot like that," said Carl.
"Nor I," rejoined Edward, laughing.
"Carl Crawford!" called the president.
Carl took his position, and bent his bow with
the greatest care. He exercised unusual
deliberation, for success meant more to him than
to any of the others. A dollar to him in his
present circumstances would be a small fortune,
while the loss of even ten cents would be
sensibly felt. His heart throbbed with excitement
as he let the arrow speed on its mission.
His unusual deliberation, and the fact that
he was a stranger, excited strong interest, and
all eyes followed the arrow with eager attentiveness.
There was a sudden shout of irrepressible excitement.
Carl's arrow had struck the bull's-eye and
the prize was his.
"Christopher!" exclaimed Edward Downie,
"you've beaten me, after all!"
"I'm almost sorry," said Carl, apologetically,
but the light in his eyes hardly bore out the statement.
"Never mind. Everybody would have called it a fluke
if I had won," said Edward. "I expect to get the prize
for the long jump. I am good at that.
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