“Dick,” whispered Hugh, “shoot now as you never shot before.  Teach them a lesson for the honour of Suffolk.”

“Let me be, master,” he grumbled.  “I told you I would do my best.”

Then he sat himself down on the grass and began to examine his arrows one by one, to all appearance taking no heed of anything else.

Presently came the first test.  At a distance of five score yards was set a little “clout,” or target, of white wood, not more than two feet square.  This clout had a red mark, or eye, three inches across, painted in its centre, and stood not very high above the sward.

“Now, Richard,” said the King, “three of the best archers that we have about us have been chosen to shoot against you and each other by their fellows.  Say, will you draw first or last?”

“Last, Sire,” he answered, “that I may know their mettle.”

Then a man stepped forward, a strong and gallant looking fellow, and loosed his three arrows.  The first missed the clout, the second pierced the white wood, and the third hit the red eye.

The clout having been changed, and the old one brought to the King with the arrows in it, the second man took his turn.  This time all three of the arrows hit the mark, one of them being in the red.  Again it was changed, and forth came the great archer of the guard, a tall and clear-eyed man named Jack Green, and whom, it was said, none had ever beaten.  He drew, and the arrow went home in the red on its left edge.  He drew again, and the arrow went home in the red on its right edge.  He drew a third time, and the arrow went home straight in the very centre of the red, where was a little black spot.

Now a great laugh went up, since clearly the Suffolk man was beaten ere ever he began.

“Your Dick may do as well; he can do no better,” said the King, when the target was brought to him.

Grey Dick looked at it.

“A boon, your Grace,” said Dick.  “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.