"You have but one more," said Master Sweepstakes. "Now for it!"
Ben, before he ventured his last arrow, prudently examined the string of his bow; and as he pulled it to try its strength, it cracked.
Master Sweepstakes clapped his hands with loud exultations and insulting laughter. But his laughter ceased, when our provident hero calmly drew from his pocket an excellent piece of whip-cord.
"The everlasting whip-cord, I declare!" exclaimed Hal, when he saw that it was the very same that had tied up the parcel.
"Yes," said Ben, as he fastened it to his bow, "I put it into my pocket to-day, on purpose, because I thought I might happen to want it."
He drew his bow the third and last time.
"O, papa," cried little Patty, as his arrow hit the mark, "it's the nearest; is not it the nearest?"
Master Sweepstakes, with anxiety, examined the hit. There could be no doubt. Ben was victorious! The bow, the prize bow, was now delivered to him.
And Hal, as he looked at the whip-cord, exclaimed, "How lucky this whip-cord has been to you, Ben!"
"It is lucky, perhaps, you mean, that he took care of it," said Mr. Gresham.