“Did you see them fall?” he cried, and took me by the coat. “Could an archer have reached them at that distance?”
“I never thought that an arrow could carry so far,” said Charles.
The Dwarf bent over and clapped himself on the knee.
“—and neither it did!” he exclaimed. “The arrows I shot didn’t travel a hundred feet. I was up there in the trees—almost over their heads. I shot down upon them. These arms did that—these strong arms of mine!”
I understood.
“You mean that you climbed from one tree to the other?” I asked. “You worked your way from branch to——?”
For an answer he reached up and took hold of the branch from which he had just dropped. He lowered his body as far as he could. Then with a spring as light as a monkey’s he shot into the air. He twisted his small legs, curling them with the suppleness of a snake. His body swung forward. He took another hold. He swung forward again. There was no strain nor gasping for breath. With a litheness that I had never judged possible he squirmed and swung himself, till in a short time he had completely disappeared among the trees.
I looked at Charles and shook my head. We stood there forgetful of our enemies in utter amazement at the Dwarf’s agility. Then without a warning an arrow came darting through the air and dug its point deep into the ground at our feet.
We jumped back and dodged behind a rock. We held our bows in readiness for an attack, with our eyes dancing anxiously in every direction.
Then came a sharp, cackling laugh from over our heads. The branches swayed and the Dwarf dropped nimbly to the earth. He swung the bow which he held in his hand with a kind of childish pride and said, “I could have killed you both! The one arrow would have done it, for you were standing in a straight line!” He puffed himself out and strutted back and forth. “Nature has given me a crooked body,” he went on, “but I’m worth a dozen perfect men.”