Squintoff's fame as a marksman was known throughout Europe; but who was his young competitor?
Ah?
there was ONE heart in the assembly that beat most anxiously to know.

'Twas Helen's.
The crowning trial arrived.

The bull's eye of the target, set up at three-quarters of a mile distance from the archers, was so small, that it required a very clever man indeed to see, much more to hit it; and as Squintoff was selecting his arrow for the final trial, the Rowski flung a purse of gold towards his archer, saying--"Squintoff, an ye win the prize, the purse is thine." "I may as well pocket it at once, your honor," said the bowman with a sneer at Otto.

"This young chick, who has been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such a mark as that." And, taking his aim, Squintoff discharged his arrow right into the very middle of the bull's-eye.
"Can you mend that, young springald ?" said he, as a shout rent the air at his success, as Helen turned pale to think that the champion of her secret heart was likely to be overcome, and as Squintoff, pocketing the Rowski's money, turned to the noble boy of Godesberg.
"Has anybody got a pea ?" asked the lad.

Everybody laughed at his droll request; and an old woman, who was selling porridge in the crowd, handed him the vegetable which he demanded.