And she turned her head towards me.
So I took my run and cleared the bar.
"A match! a match!" cried the crowd, closing in a step; "a match between Will Peake and Humphrey Dexter." "And take my sword and cloak," shouted a Bridge boy, who owned neither, "if Will Peake do not over-jump the printer's devil's head." This made me angry.

Not that I cared for the gibe; but because I disliked that one there should hear me called by so graceless a name.
Well, we jumped once more; but this time I dared not look anywhere, but straight before me.

Yet I cleared the bar.
Whereupon the Bridge boys vaunted themselves more soberly, and he who had offered his cloak and sword now offered only his belt.
"Set the bar two points higher," I cried, "and clear me that, Will Peake, if you can." At that our lads rent the air with shouts, and Will Peake pulled a long face.

For the bar now stood level with his eyes, though it only reached my chin.
It fell out as I hoped.

He jumped, and the bar sprang six yards into the air as he missed it.
Then our 'prentices made up for the silence of those of the Bridge; and this time the gamester offered not so much as a shoe lace.
For all that, I must clear the bar, if I was to make good my challenge; and I drew a long breath as I stood a moment and glanced round.
Yes.