With these came also the poorer folk, who sat or lay upon
the green grass near the railing that kept them from off the range. In
the great tent the archers were gathering by twos and threes; some
talking loudly of the fair shots each man had made in his day; some
looking well to their bows, drawing a string betwixt the fingers to see
that there was no fray upon it, or inspecting arrows, shutting one eye
and peering down a shaft to see that it was not warped, but straight and
true, for neither bow nor shaft should fail at such a time and for such
a prize. And never was such a company of yeomen as were gathered at
Nottingham Town that day, for the very best archers of merry England had
come to this shooting match. There was Gill o' the Red Cap, the
Sheriff's own head archer, and Diccon Cruikshank of Lincoln Town, and
Adam o' the Dell, a man of Tamworth, of threescore years and more, yet
hale and lusty still, who in his time had shot in the famous match at
Woodstock, and had there beaten that renowned archer, Clym o' the
Clough. And many more famous men of the longbow were there, whose names
have been handed down to us in goodly ballads of the olden time.
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