"It must fall directly it is hit," he said.
The youths exchanged glances. One didn't need to go to South America to learn to hit an object the size of a man's hand at a distance of fifteen paces. The first shot was fired. The slice did not stir, and surprise increased.
At intervals of several seconds two other shots followed. The slice stood fast as if it had taken root on the mark.
"Will the gentlemen satisfy themselves that the target has not been struck?" said Leo.
"It seems pretty clear that it hasn't," replied Lothair, feeling that he might now safely venture on a little impertinence.
"All the same, I invite inspection."
Shaking their heads, the little group trotted over to the target. It seemed almost as if he had been pulling their legs. But not a trace of the last shots was to be found on the broad surface of the marking-table. The bullets must have stuck in the air. Only when Leo knocked over the slice of cheese with the nail of his little finger was the mystery solved. The slice had three pores larger than the rest. A bullet had penetrated through each of these almost without grazing the side.
They gave vent to an exclamation of awed amazement, for here was a man capable of choosing the very pore in his enemy's skin that he might fancy in which to lodge a bullet. Soon afterwards the older gentlemen came over from the stable-yard, Ulrich amongst them. When he beheld his friend laughing and joking with the youngsters, he stiffened and withdrew a few steps, looking almost shocked. Before he could open his mouth, Leo was at his side.
"Silence!" he exhorted.
Then he shook heartily the hands stretched out to him on all sides. So soon as it was over he led Ulrich aside.