"Only partially," said Oswald, "as I have only inherited a part of his skill in pistol-shooting.--Shall we go for a moment to the stand? I judge from the sound we must be quite near."
"Bravo, bravo!" cried a number of voices from there; "Cloten, I bet on you."
"I bet on Breesen," said another voice.
They found at the stand half a dozen gentlemen perhaps, all greatly excited, with the exception of Baron Oldenburg, who, leaning against his tree, and his hands in his pockets, looked at the marksmen and hummed stanzas from the Marseillaise through his teeth.
"Bravo, Cloten. Again the bull's-eye--the fellow shoots like the devil!" cried several voices.
"Has anybody else a desire to bet?" said Cloten, looking all around with a wonderfully self-complacent air.
"I should like to bet, if you please," said Oswald.
"You?" said the dandy, with a look of speechless surprise.
"I bet a sovereign on the gentleman," said Oldenburg, grinning. "Who will take it?"
"Done! Done!" cried several voices.