"Twenty-one feet and a half!" shouted the multitude, repeating the announcement of one of the judges, "twenty-one feet and a half. Harry Carroll forever. Annette and Harry." Hands, caps, and kerchiefs waved over the heads of the spectators, and the eyes of the delighted Annette sparkled with joy.
When Harry Carroll moved to his station to strive for the prize, a tall, gentlemanly young man in a military undress frock-coat, who had rode up to the inn, dismounted and joined the spectators, unperceived, while the contest was going on, stepped suddenly forward, and with a "knowing eye," measured deliberately the space accomplished by the last leaper. He was a stranger in the village. His handsome face and easy address attracted the eyes of the village maidens, and his manly and sinewy frame, in which symmetry and strength were happily united, called forth the admiration of the young men.
"Mayhap, sir stranger, you think you can beat that," said one of the by-standers, remarking the manner in which the eye of the stranger scanned the area. "If you can leap beyond Harry Carroll, you'll beat the best man in the colonies." The truth of this observation was assented to by a general murmur.
"Is it for mere amusement you are pursuing this pastime?" inquired the youthful stranger, "or is there a prize for the winner?"
"Annette, the loveliest and wealthiest of our village-maidens, is to be the reward of the victor," cried one of the judges.
"All, young sir!" replied the father of Annette, with interest,--his youthful ardour rising as he surveyed the proportions of the straight-limbed young stranger. "She is the bride of him who out-leaps Henry Carroll. If you will try, you are free to do so. But let me tell you, Harry Carroll has no rival in Virginny. Here is my daughter, sir, look at her and make your trial."
The young officer glanced upon the trembling maiden about to be offered on the altar of her father's unconquerable monomania, with an admiring eye. The poor girl looked at Harry, who stood near with a troubled brow and angry eye, and then cast upon the new competitor an imploring glance.
Placing his coat in the hands of one of the judges, he drew a sash he wore beneath it tighter around his waist, and taking the appointed stand, made, apparently without effort, the bound that was to decide the happiness or misery of Henry and Annette.