“All right,” said Walter, but not very cheerily; “I’m booked now, and must make the best of it. How many are there who are going in for the trial, do you think?”
“We shall see,” said Saunders, “if we wait a bit; it wants a quarter to four, still.”
Everything was then duly arranged for the contest. A mile’s course had been previously marked out, and a shooting-butt set up, and also two poles with a leaping-rod across them. As the hour approached, several young men respectably dressed came up, and among them a powerful and active-looking fellow whose appearance was hailed by a general shout of mirth. His clothing was none of the best; his face was scarred in several places; and there was a free-and-easy manner about him, very different from that of the other competitors. He answered the loud laughter by which his appearance had been greeted with a broad grin and a profound bow of mock salutation. Each candidate for the trial had brought his gun with him, and stood prepared for the contest. Gregson and Saunders managed all the arrangements after a brief consultation with Walter.
Four o’clock had now come, and Gregson, having ascertained the fact by looking at his watch, brought the competitors forward, and informed them that the shooting would be the first thing, and that six shots would be allowed to each, the winner being of course he who should place the greatest number of marks nearest the bull’s-eye. At the same time Gregson made it to be distinctly understood that the sovereign was only to be given to the man, if such should be found, who should beat Walter Huntingdon in all three things,—namely, in shooting, leaping, and running.
By his own request Walter came first. Whatever may have been his feelings of annoyance or reluctance up to this time, they were now completely swallowed up in the excitement of the moment and the desire to maintain the high reputation he had previously gained. So he threw his whole soul into the contest, and with steady eye and unwavering hand pointed his rifle towards the target. Bang! a cloud of smoke. Well shot! the bullet had struck the target, but not very near the centre. A second and third were equally but not more successful. The fourth struck the bull’s-eye, the fifth the ring next it, and the sixth the bull’s-eye again. Bravo! shouted the excited crowd; would any one beat that? Forward now came a sober-looking young man, and did his best, but this was far short of what Walter had achieved. Two others followed with no better success. Then came one who handled his gun very carefully, and took his aims with great deliberation. Three shots in the bull’s-eye! here was a winner—would any one come up to him? Four more came forward, and two of these again scored three shots in the bull’s-eye. And now the rough-looking man, who had excited the general mirth of the crowd on his arrival, took his stand opposite the target. He gazed at it a full minute before raising his piece. There was a derisive titter throughout the spectators as at last he did so in an awkward style, and with a queer twist of his mouth. The next moment he was rigid as a statue cut out of stone. Flash! bang! the bull’s-eye; again the bull’s-eye; two more very near it; twice again the bull’s-eye. So he has made the best score after all. “I thought so,” he cried, with a swaggering toss of his head and a jaunty whistle, and then with a flourish of his rifle high in air he strode back into the midst of the onlookers. Thus there were four of the competitors who had outdone Walter in the firing at the mark.
But the running and jumping yet remained to be contested. The jumping was arranged to come next, and the four winners in the shooting prepared to do their best against their young challenger: Walter was now thoroughly roused, and, taking off his coat, and exchanging his boots for a pair of light shoes, stepped forward to exert himself to his utmost. Higher and higher did he bound over the cross-rod as it was raised for him by his friends peg by peg. Jumping was a feat in which he specially prided himself, and loud was the applause of Gregson, Saunders, and their friends as he sprang over the rod time after time. At last he failed to clear it, and his utmost was done. And now the previous winners came on in turn. The first who made the attempt soon gave in; he was clearly inferior to Walter in the high jump. The next surpassed him by one peg. The third equalled him. And now came forward the strange-looking man on whom all eyes were eagerly bent. He had divested himself of his coat and dirty neck-tie, and having kicked off his shoes, looked round him with a snort and a wild grimace, and then ran forward with a light, skipping step, and cleared the first stick without the slightest effort. Each succeeding height was leapt over with the same ease, till he had equalled the most successful jumper. “And now for a topper,” he cried, as the rod was raised by still another peg. Throwing all his energies into the effort, with a rush and a mighty bound he cleared the stick by nearly a foot, and danced gaily back to the starting-point amidst the vociferous applause of all present. Therefore Walter had now the two to contend with in the foot-race who had surpassed him in the high jump. The interest of the crowd was now at boiling-point, and all sorts of conjectures, opinions, and affirmations were circulated as to the issue of the trial, while the three who were to run were resting a while. At length, cheered on by the sympathising shouts of the impatient spectators, they placed themselves abreast, stripped of all superfluous garments, and at a signal from Gregson the race began. Walter commenced warily, husbanding his strength, and not quickening his speed till he had reached the middle of the course; the one of the remaining two did much the same. As for the other, the wild-looking winner of the highest place in the two previous contests, he slouched along amidst peals of laughter all through the line. Nevertheless, it was soon evident that, although dropping behind a little in the first quarter of a mile, he was gradually drawing up nearer and nearer to the front. When Walter had accomplished three-fourths of his task, and was now putting on extra speed, the wild stranger, with a shout of “Victory for ever!” flung himself forward at a tremendous speed, and kept easily ahead to the end. The two remaining racers now pressed on abreast till within a yard of the place from whence they started, when, by a last vehement effort, Walter’s companion came in a foot or two in advance. All flung themselves on the grass, and when the hubbub of cheers and shouts had subsided, Walter rose to his feet, and holding out a hand to each of the victors, said with a laugh, “Fairly beaten.”
Gradually now the crowd began to disperse, while the little band of competitors gathered round a cart which had been brought up by Walter’s direction carrying some refreshments for himself and his friends, and those who had tried skill and endurance with him. When the provisions had been duly partaken of, Walter, taking out his purse, turned to those about him and said: “And now, to whom am I to give the sovereign, for two have beaten me?”
“Oh, to our friend here, of course,” said Gregson, placing his hand on the strange-looking man’s shoulder, “for he has done the best right through.”
“Come forward, then, my man,” said Walter; “and pray, may I ask your name?”
“Oh,” said the man addressed, with a laugh, “every one knows my name—Jim Jarrocks they calls me.”