In all
the surface of the much-perforated targets of the club, there was
scarcely a hole that he could put his hand upon his heart and say
he made.
Indeed, I think it was the truth that Pepton was born not to
be an archer. There were young fellows in the club who shot with
bows that cost no more than Pepton's tassels, but who could stand
up and whang arrows into the targets all the afternoon, if they
could get a chance; and there were ladies who made hits five
times out of six; and there were also all the grades of archers
common to any club. But there was no one but himself in Pepton's
grade. He stood alone, and it was never any trouble to add up
his score.
Yet he was not discouraged. He practised every day except
Sundays, and indeed he was the only person in the club who
practised at night. When he told me about this, I was a little
surprised.
"Why, it's easy enough," said he. "You see, I hung a
lantern, with a reflector, before the target, just a little to
one side. It lighted up the target beautifully, and I believe
there was a better chance of hitting it than by daylight, for the
only thing you could see was the target, and so your attention
was not distracted. To be sure," he said, in answer to a
question, "it was a good deal of trouble to find the arrows, but
that I always have. When I get so expert that I can put all the
arrows into the target, there will be no trouble of the kind,
night or day. However," he continued, "I don't practise any more
by night.
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