The boys were greatly delighted at this proof of skill.
“I will show you another thing. Charlie, run to the house and get your mother’s milk-pail. Now, what will you bet that I can’t shoot an arrow up in the air so that it will come down in that pail?”
“It’s impossible,” cried Charlie; “it can’t be done.”
“If I do it, will you and John give me a day’s work this fall digging potatoes?”
“Yes, will we.”
“And so will I,” said Fred.
He drew the bow, and, sure enough, the arrow came down in the milk-pail, and, as it was pointed, stuck up in it.
“Well,” exclaimed Charlie, “if any man in this world had told me he had seen that done, or that it could be done, I wouldn’t have believed him.”
“I rather think,” said Uncle Isaac, with a smile, “this is the easiest way in which I can dig my potatoes.”
“Now, Uncle Isaac,” said Charlie, “I want you to tell me just one thing; how did you learn to shoot so? My grandfather killed men in battle, and used to shoot at the butts on holidays, and gained prizes for shooting, but he couldn’t shoot like that; and I don’t believe he ever heard of anything like it.”