"That am I. He is a slim, slight man with long hair, and small, fair beard."
"If you could lead me to him, friend, I would reward you well," said the Sheriff, in malicious tones.
"I will show the place where we met soon as you will, excellence," replied the beggar.
Monceux nodded, and made a sign of dismissal. "I will speak further with you later, friend," he said.
The beggar went back to the archer and said that now he would take a shot with him. "I may as well win two prizes as one," he continued, affably, "for the horse will help me carry my pieces."
Arthur-à-Bland was greatly incensed at this speech, and took aim with hands that trembled with anger. However, he made a pretty shot, and a round of cheering met his effort.
The beggar took the bow which one of the archers held out to him, and fitted his arrow to it with a great show of care. When at last he released the arrow all got ready to laugh and jeer at him.
He contrived, however, to surprise them once again, for his arrow was found to be a full inch nearer the middle of the mark than all the others.
They shot again and again, and at length Arthur-à-Bland lodged his shaft in the center of the target. "Now mend that shot, Master Patch, an you can," cried he.
"Nay, I fear that I must now yield the prize to you, gossip," declared the beggar. "Yet I will even do my best."