The Prince rolled his eyes in indignation, as if to collect some safe and easy victim; and chancing to encounter the firm glance of the same archer whom we have already noticed, and who seemed to persist in his gesture of applause, in spite of the frowning aspect which the Prince bent upon him, he demanded his reason for clamouring thus.

“I always add my hollo,” said the yeoman, “when I see a good shot, or a gallant blow.”

“Sayst thou?” answered the Prince; “then thou canst hit the white thyself, I’ll warrant.”

“A woodsman’s mark, and at woodsman’s distance, I can hit,” answered the yeoman.

“And Wat Tyrrel’s mark, at a hundred yards,” said a voice from behind, but by whom uttered could not be discerned.