"A rare good shot, Master Locksley," said a laughing voice, and
Rand turned to meet a frank-faced lad of his own age in the Scout
uniform, who wore a first class scout's badge, and who gave the
Scout salute as he stepped forward.
"Cans't thou mend it, brave yeoman," replied Rand in the language
of Robin Hood's day, in which the other had spoken, returning the
salute.
"I doubt it much," returned the newcomer, taking the bow which
Rand had offered and stretching it the length of his arm. "A good
bow and worthy of your skill. With your permission I will essay a
shot."
"Rather we crave the favor," answered Rand, extending his quiver
to the stranger, who carefully selecting an arrow, fitted it to
the bow. Then drawing the bow back the full length of the arrow
he measured the distance with his eye, and, loosing the string,
the arrow sped straight to the center of the bull's-eye.
With one accord the boys put their bugles to their lips and sounded
the Scout salute.
"By my faith," cried Rand, in generous admiration of the other's
skill, "'twas a noble shot and well placed.
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