“Another object?” she asked.
“The silver figure of the god of love on the fountain; but methinks ’tis over far.”
“Not too far for me,” quoth Elissa; “this is a game that I play well, mine uncle, for I have practised greatly.”
Again a javeline flew through the air with the most marvellous precision, striking the neck of the little silver god with such force that it was transfixed from side to side by the gleaming steel.
“By the great goddess of love herself!” cried Mago, in admiration, “never saw I such dexterity. ’Tis evident that her son’s arrows are but a toy compared to Elissa’s javelines.”
Elissa smiled.
“Now, wouldst see me on my war-horse, mine uncle Mago? ’Twas Maharbal himself who taught me to ride when but a child, and I am on horseback, as thou shalt see, a very Numidian. I have neither saddle nor stirrups; but, merely for show’s sake, a bridle have I, with silver chains for reins; likewise, I have a golden saddle-cloth, to the surcingle of which the reins are, as thou seest, attached to prevent them falling.”
An orderly was leading a splendid bay charger, thus caparisoned, up and down before the verandah of the palace. Taking a short run, Elissa sprang lightly into her seat across the horse.
“Some darts,” she cried; “give me some darts.”
Some half-dozen short, but heavy-headed darts were given to her, which she grasped with her left hand below the shield.