"Of a surety, no," said Hofer, quietly. "The lad is a good lad. We shall see what stuff he is made of this summer; and, if he quits himself well, he shall have Theresa at the end of it. You and I were little more than two-and-twenty when we took our brides to church; and Theresa is already nearly as old as her mother was. But we have other matters in hand just now. I see one or two together whom I want to speak to, only Franz is within earshot of them. Do you draw him off."
Speckbacher immediately went up to him, and asked whether he could let him have some brandy; and Hofer joined a couple of elderly men, who were just sitting down side by side on a bench under a tree.
"There hasn't been such a match as this a good while," one was saying; "but, dear me, what matches we used to have when I was a lad! I'm not more than fifteen or twenty years older than that marksman who is taking aim now, but I don't believe he'll hit the white. Crack! Well, they're making a piece of work about it—I suppose he's hit the bull's eye."
"Here comes one that can do more than that," said the other. "Anderl! you have not shot, to-day."
"Boys' play," said Hofer with indifference.
"But you could show them what a man can do."
"Brag, neighbours? No good of brag. Besides, these lads shoot well, many of them. There was some good shooting before you came."
"People always say that of everything," said the other. "I've no spirit for these things now."
"Ah, things will befall shortly, that will put you in spirits."
"What mean you, Sandwirth? Is anything going to happen?"