New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1906-03-04


But the old bowman had riddle, after hin,
II II please YOU, Sir Robert the bowInen
would tam put these men to death in their
own fashion, said he
80 that they die care not how" Knolles
answered oarelessly, and looked back no
Human life was cheap in those stern davs
when the iootmen of a stricken army or the
crew OF a captured ship We're slain without
any question or thought of mercy by the VIC
tors ar was rude game with death for
the stake, and the forfeit was ALWAYS claimed
on the one side and paid the other without
doubt or hesitation. Only the knight might
he spared, since his ransom made him worth
more alive than dead To men trained in
Such a school with death forever hanging
over their own heads, it NAV be well believed
that the Staying of two peasant murierers
was small matter.
And Vet there was special reason why upon
this occasion the bow1nen wished TO keep the
deed IN their own hands. Ever since their dis
pute aboard the Basiisll there had been ill-feel-
ing betwlXt Bartholomew the old bald-headed
bower and long Ned Wellington the Dales-
man, which had ended in a conflict at Oman
in which not only they but dozen of their
friends had been laid upon the cobblestones.
HE dispute ragged round their respective
knowledge and skill with the bow. and now
some quick WIT amongst the soldiers had Sug-
geSted a grim fashion IN which IL should be
put TO the proof once for all which could
draw the surer shaft
4 thick wood lay two hundred PAGES from
the road upon which the archers stood. \
stretch OF smooth grassy sward lay between.
he two peasants were led out fifty wards from
the road, with their faces toward the wood
There they stood, held on leash and casting
many wondering frightened glance over their
shoulders At the preparations which were
being made behind them
Old Bartholomew and the big Yorkshire
man had stepped out Of the ranks and stood
side by side each with his strung bow in his
-ett hand and a single arrow IN his right. With
care they had drawn on and creased their
shootlng-gloves and fastened their bracers.
They pluc6ed and cast up a few blades OF
grass TO measure the wind examined every
small point OF their tackle, turned their sides
10 the mark, and widened their feet in a tirTner
stance. From all sides came chat and counsel
from their comrades.
\ three-q quarter wind, bower cried one
Aim a bodVs breadth To the right"
But not thy bodys breadth, bower"
laughed another, else may YOU be overwide'
Nav, this wind viii scarce turn a well
drawn shaft said third Shoot dead upon
him and YOU viii be clap IN the clout."
Steady, Ned, for the good name Of the
Dales," cried Yorkshireman. Loose easy
and pluck not OF l am five crowns the poorer
man.
A weeks pay on Bartholomew" shouted
another Il" Now. old fat-pate, fail me not,'
Enough, enough! STINT Your talk" cried
the old bowman, Wat OF Carlisle " Were
YOUR Sn1ltS quick YOUR tongues there
would be no facing YOU. DO YOU shoot upon
the little one, Bartholomew, and YOU. Ned. up
on the other Give them law until | cry
the word, then loose in Your own fashion and
At your own time Are YOU ready, Hoa
there, Hayward, Beddington, let them runi'
The leashcs were torn away, and the two
men, STOPPING their heads, ran madly for the
shelter Of the wood, amid such howl from
the archers as beaters may give when the hare
starts from its form. The two bowmcn,
each with his arrow drawn TO the pile, stood
ike russell statues, menacIng, motionless, their
eager eyes fixed upon the fugitives, their
bowstaves rising slowly as the distance be-
tween them heightened. The Bretons were
halfway TO the wood, and still Old Wat was
silent. II NAV have been mercy or 1t may
have been mischief, but at least the chase
should have a fair chance of life. At six
score PAGES he turned his grizzled head at last.
"Loosel" he cried.
At the word the Yorkshireman's bow-string
twanged. 1t was not for nothing that he had
earned the name Of being one OF the deadliest
archers Of the North and had twice borne
away the silver arrow Of Selby. Swift and true
flew the fatal shaft and buried itself to the
feather in the curved back Of the long Yellow
haired peasant. Without a sound he fell upon
his face and lay stone-dead upon the grass,
the one short white plume betwiXt his dark
shoulders u mari, where Death had smote
hirn