“My grandsire,” said Hubert, “drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings , and never shot at such a mark in his life⁠—and neither will I. If this yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers⁠—or rather, I yield to the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any human skill; a man can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I might as well shoot at the edge of our parson’s whittle, or at a wheat straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see.”

“Cowardly dog!” said Prince John.⁠—“Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but, if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did so. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of superior skill.”

“I will do my best, as Hubert says,” answered Locksley; “no man can do more.”