"Grant that this clout may be set up again with the arrows fast.

Any may know them from mine since they are grey, whereas those I make are black, for I am a fletcher in my spare hours, and love my own handiwork." "So be it," said the King, wondering; and the clout was replaced upon its stand.
Now Grey Dick stretched himself, looked at the clout, looked at his bow, and set a black-winged arrow on the string.

Then he drew, it seemed but lightly and carelessly, as though he thought the distance small.

Away flew the shaft, and sank into the red a good inch within the leftmost arrow of Jack Green.
"Ah," said the onlookers, "a lucky shot indeed!" Again he drew, and again the arrow sank into the red, a good inch within the rightmost shot of Jack Green.
"Oh!" said the onlookers, "this man is an archer; but Jack's last he cannot best, let the devil help him how he will." "In the devil's name, then, be silent!" wheezed Grey Dick, with a flash of his half-opened eye.
"Ay, be silent--be silent!" said the King.

"We do not see such shooting every day." Now Dick set his foot apart and, arrow on string, thrice he lifted his bow and thrice let it sink again, perhaps because he felt some breath of wind stir the still air.