There was a yellow and withered stump some way off, seen under the drooping branches of a lofty oak.

The archer measured the distance with his eye; and then, drawing three shafts, he shot them off with such speed that the first had not reached the mark ere the last was on the string.

Each arrow passed high over the oak; and, of the three, two stuck fair into the stump; while the third, caught in some wandering puff of wind, was driven a foot or two to one side.
"Good!" cried the north countryman.

"Hearken to him lads! He is a master bowman.

Your dad says amen to every word he says." "By my hilt!" said Aylward, "if I am to preach on bowmanship, the whole long day would scarce give me time for my sermon.