CHAPTER XI.
THE ARCHERY PRIZE.
Situated as he was, it seemed, on second thought, rather a joke to Carlto be attacked by a robber. He had but twenty-five cents in good moneyabout him, and that he had just picked up by the merest chance.
"Do I look like a banker?" he asked, humorously. "Why do you want to roba boy?"
"The way you're togged out, you must have something," growled the tramp,"and I haven't got a penny."
"Your business doesn't seem to pay, then?"
"Don't you make fun of me, or I'll wring your neck! Just hand over yourmoney and be quick about it! I haven't time to stand fooling here allday."
A bright idea came to Carl. He couldn't spare the silver coin, whichconstituted all his available wealth, but he still had the counterfeitnote.
"You won't take all my money, will you?" he said, earnestly.
"How much have you got?" asked the tramp, pricking up his ears.
Carl, with apparent reluctance, drew out the ten-dollar bill.
The tramp's face lighted up.
"Is your name Vanderbilt?" he asked. "I didn't expect to make such ahaul."
"Can't you give me back a dollar out of it? I don't want to lose all Ihave."
"I haven't got a cent. You'll have to wait till we meet again. So long,boy! You've helped me out of a scrape."
"Or into one," thought Carl.
The tramp straightened up, buttoned his dilapidated coat, and walked offwith the consciousness of being a capitalist.
Carl watched him with a smile.
"I hope I won't meet him after he has discovered that the bill is acounterfeit," he said to himself.
He congratulated himself upon being still the possessor of twenty-fivecents in silver. It was not much, but it seemed a great deal better thanbeing penniless. A week before he would have thought it impossiblethat such a paltry sum would have made him feel comfortable, but he hadpassed through a great deal since then.
About the middle of the afternoon he came to a field, in which somethingappeared to be going on. Some forty or fifty young persons, boys andgirls, were walking about the grass, and seemed to be preparing for someinteresting event.
Carl stopped to rest and look on.
"What's going on here?" he asked of a boy who was sitting on the fence.
"It's a meeting of the athletic association," said the boy.
"What are they doing?"
"They try for prizes in jumping, vaulting, archery and so on."
This interested Carl, who excelled in all manly exercises.
"I suppose I may stay and look on?" he said, inquiringly.
"Why, of course. Jump over the fence and I'll go round with you."
It seemed pleasant to Carl to associate once more with boys of his ownage. Thrown unexpectedly upon his own resources, he had almost forgottenthat he was a boy. Face to face with a cold and unsympathizing world, heseemed to himself twenty-five at least.
"Those who wish to compete for the archery prize will come forward,"announced Robert Gardiner, a young man of nineteen, who, as Carllearned, was the president of the association. "You all understand theconditions. The entry fee to competitors is ten cents. The prize to themost successful archer is one dollar."
Several boys came forward and paid the entrance fee.
"Would you like to compete?" asked Edward Downie, the boy whoseacquaintance Carl had made.
"I am an outsider," said Carl. "I don't belong to the association."
"I'll speak to the president, if you like."
"I don't want to intrude."
"It won't be considered an intrusion. You pay the entrance fee and takeyour chances."
Edward went to the president and spoke to him in a low voice. The resultwas that he advanced to Carl, and said, courteously:
"If you would like to enter into our games, you are quite at liberty todo so."
"Thank you," responded Carl. "I have had a little practice in archery,and will enter my name for that prize."
He paid over his quarter and received back fifteen cents in change. Itseemed rather an imprudent outlay, considering his small capital; but hehad good hopes of carrying off the prize, and that would be a great liftfor him. Seven boys entered besides Carl. The first was Victor Russell,a lad of fourteen, whose arrow went three feet above the mark.
"The prize is mine if none of you do better than that," laughed Victor,good-naturedly.
"I hope not, for the credit of the club," said the president. "Mr.Crawford, will you shoot next?"
"I would prefer to be the last," said Carl, modestly.
"John Livermore, your turn now."
John came a little nearer than his predecessor, but did not distinguishhimself.
"If that is a specimen of the skill of the clubmen," thought Carl, "mychance is a good one."
Next came Frank Stockton, whose arrow stuck only three inches from thecenter of the target.
"Good for Fred!" cried Edward Downie. "Just wait till you see me shoot!"
"Are you a dangerous rival?" asked Carl, smiling.
"I can hit a barn door if I am only near enough," replied Edward.
"Edward Downie!" called the president.
Edward took his bow and advanced to the proper place, bent it, and thearrow sped on its way.
There was a murmur of surprise when his arrow struck only an inch to theright of the centre. No one was more amazed than Edward himself, for hewas accounted far from skillful. It was indeed a lucky accident.
"What do you say to that?" asked Edward, triumphantly.
"I think the prize is yours. I had no idea you could shoot like that,"said Carl.
"Nor I," rejoined Edward, laughing.
"Carl Crawford!" called the president.
Carl took his position, and bent his bow with the greatest care. Heexercised unusual deliberation, for success meant more to him than toany of the others. A dollar to him in his present circumstances wouldbe a small fortune, while the loss of even ten cents would be sensiblyfelt. His heart throbbed with excitement as he let the arrow speed onits mission.
His unusual deliberation, and the fact that he was a stranger,excited strong interest, and all eyes followed the arrow with eagerattentiveness.
There was a sudden shout of irrepressible excitement.
Carl's arrow had struck the bull's-eye and the prize was his.
"Christopher!" exclaimed Edward Downie, "you've beaten me, after all!"
"I'm almost sorry," said Carl, apologetically, but the light in his eyeshardly bore out the statement.
"Never mind. Everybody would have called it a fluke if I had won,"said Edward. "I expect to get the prize for the long jump. I am good atthat."
"So am I, but I won't compete; I will leave it to you."
"No, no. I want to win fair."
Carl accordingly entered his name. He made the second best jump, butEdward's exceeded his by a couple of inches, and the prize was adjudgedto him.
"I have my revenge," he said, smiling. "I am glad I won, for it wouldn'thave been to the credit of the club to have an outsider carry off twoprizes."
"I am perfectly satisfied," said Carl; "I ought to be, for I did notexpect to carry off any."
Carl decided not to compete for any other prize. He had invested twentycents and got back a dollar, which left him a profit of eighty cents.This, with his original quarter, made him the possessor of a dollar andfive cents.
"My luck seems to have turned," he said to himself, and the thought gavehim fresh courage.
It was five o'clock when the games were over, and Carl prepared to startagain on his journey.
"Where are you going to take supper?" asked Downie.
"I--don't--know."
"Come home with me. If you are in no hurry, you may as well stayovernight, and go on in the morning."
"Are you sure it won't inconvenience you?"
"Not at all."
"Then I'll accept with thanks."
Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience Page 11
