"You seem to have a good many targets."
"Ah, those are my coats of arms," said the Sandwirth, supping his porridge.
"They seem to have been hit in the bull's eye pretty often."
"Pretty often."
"By you?"
"By me."
"At how many paces?"
"Three hundred."
"You must be a pretty good marksman."
"Goodish; there are plenty as good or better in the Tyrol. Did you hear that verse one of our men made the other day? General Marschall had observed that we only beat the enemy by chance. On which, our youngster observed—