"A little, dear Benno."
They scouted his modesty. Every one knew that he used to be the first shot in the country; and who could say what fresh skill he might have acquired on the other side of the ocean?
"We won't hear any excuse," some one cried from the little crowd.
Leo felt in the humour for the prank. It was an opportunity, too, of reading a timely lesson to some who might later perhaps be disposed to make themselves objectionable.
"The revolver was our speciality over there," he said, looking round.
"We have one! We have one!" they shouted in chorus.
Lothair handed him a magnificent pistol with long blue gleaming barrels.
"But he must shoot at the cheese," called out Herr von Zesslingen, who, since he had drunk the three gallons, was looked upon as an authority amongst them.
"Just as you please," replied Leo.
The favourite, a fine slice of porous, golden-yellow cheese about the size of a plate, with firm rind, was solemnly handed to him. He carried it between two fingers to the mark, which was about fifteen paces from the shooting-place, and placed it on two of the pegs by which the circular target was fastened to the table.