CHAPTER III.
THE SHOOTING MATCH.
SUNDAY afternoon presented a busy scene at the wirth-haus. Groups of gaily-dressed peasants were standing about, many talking fast and eagerly, others quietly, and a little apart. Here stood a woman in an extinguisher-shaped black worsted cap, with her massive arms akimbo, talking to another apparently strong enough to build a house, who wore a globular cap of fur; while, between them, stood a third in a grass-green gown, very short-waisted, and with three rows of red binding round the skirt, her head covered by a gaudy handkerchief, tied under the chin. They looked worthy compatriots of the women of the Vorarlberg, who, during the Thirty Years' War, drove a Swedish division out of the Lechthal, and killed them to a man. There was more of the lioness that might be roused to defend her cubs, in them, however, than of the poissarde; they had hard hands, strong arms, kind hearts, and firm wills.
The young girls, who were mostly sunburnt, and pleasant-looking rather than pretty, had bestowed considerable attention on their hair, which was braided in long shining tails, tied with gay ribands, and surmounted in some cases by jaunty little straw hats, rather bigger than daisies, and wreathed with primroses, blue hyacinths, and anemones. Among the young men and lads, red sashes, green jackets, and blue stockings were rife; each had his tall, conical hat with gold cord and tassels, flower, or feather; his rifle, plated buckles, and flower in his button-hole. They did not seem to have much to say to the young girls, for flirtation is very little countenanced in the Tyrol.
The target was set up at a distance of two hundred and fifty paces. There were the benches, the beer-tables, and the long board on tressels, covered with balls, powder-flasks, and everything likely to be wanted for the sport. The rifles that were to do such goodly service were heavy and clumsy, with triggers so delicate as almost to be set off by a gust of wind. Theresa actively assisted her mother in waiting on the company. Johann sidled up to little Anderl Speckbacher and got him off to a bank, where they could watch the shooting, their arms round each other's necks. The two little girls held their mother's apron as long as they could, and finally found themselves some juvenile companions.
Franz was very smart; but, somehow, his clothes always looked as if they had been made for somebody else; and were worn with a slouching air, as if he felt too fine for his company. On the other hand, Rudolf's glossy suit of green velveteen fitted without a crease, and he did not seem to think either of himself or his dress, but to have alert, disengaged attention for whatever was going on.
Talking to Hofer and Speckbacher was a man of thirty, with piercing blue eyes, a bold but not prepossessing countenance, indicative of great sharpness, and stooping a little, neither like a mountaineer nor a soldier, though he had been a militia captain and major. This was Martin Teimer, who had come from Clagenfurt to talk over the rising with his compatriots. He had been appointed by General Chastelar, chief of the peasants of the Upper Innthal, and seemed rather inclined, his two companions thought, to plume himself on it. These three men had an eye to everything that was going on around them; and now and then separated and mingled among the groups, speaking to men here and there, till, in time, they had had a short private colloquy with every man on the ground; returning to each other from time to time, and comparing notes.
Meanwhile, the rifles were in full action: now circle one, now circle two was hit, now the bull's eye; and even without looking round, it was easy to tell by the cheerful, the triumphant, or the moderated acclamations, what had been the rifleman's success.
Speckbacher, returning from one of these progresses, observed to Hofer, "I don't much like that youth, Franz Raffel; he is shallow, vain-glorious, and given to talk. He would be better among the châlets."
"Thither he shall go, if we can get him," said Hofer; "but he is somewhat slippery to get hold of; half his time, he is skulking about, smuggling brandy across the frontier; and as we want a good store of it just now, I at present make him useful."
"Rudolf is worth a score of him," said Speckbacher; "and I think your pretty Theresa thinks so too. I would not discourage that youngster, Anderl, even if Martin Teimer were to come forward—"