Carter gave his bow and arrows to another member of the club and hurried into one of the cottages. From this cottage he was seen to rush into another and then another, and came back in a few moments with the announcement that the distance would have to be stepped, as somehow the tape measure had been mislaid and he could not find it.
Harry Rattleton promptly drew a tape measure from one of his pockets.
“You will find that this is as true as a die,” he asserted, smilingly passing it to Hammond. “Stretch it across the ground there, and I’ll help you do the measuring, if you’re willing.”
“Certainly,” said Hammond, critically eying the tape. “You will do as well as any one.”
Rattleton took one end of the line and ran with it out toward the target, and Hammond put the other on the ground. Rattleton marked the point, and Hammond moved up to it.
“The distance is five yards too short,” Rattleton announced, when the measurement had been made.
“This line is not right,” declared Hammond, white with inward rage.
“Send to the village and get another, then,” said Merriwell. “A dozen if you like. Or take another look for your own.”
“Of course we’ll set the target where you say it ought to be,” fumed Hammond, who had hoped to take a mean advantage, which had been prevented by the true eye of Frank Merriwell.
What made the discovery so bitter to Hammond was the knowledge that he had injured the chances of himself and his friends in the contest, for they had done nearly all of their practicing at the false distance. His attempted cheating had recoiled on his own head.