"Don't back down," said Peter. "Ye've got two more tries. If ye let him beat us he'll be so darned cocky there won't be no livin' with him." Patrick copied the Italian's shrug and passed the rifle on. Vittorio advanced for his third turn under the keenly suspicious scrutiny of six eyes. They could not divine how such shooting could be accomplished by trickery, but, still more, they could not divine how it could be accomplished without. Vittorio sighted more carefully this time, but he made his bull's-eye with unabated precision. "Dat make-a free time," he observed, relinquishing the rifle with a regretful sigh. "Guess I've had enough," said Peter. "You're Vittorio Emanuele, same-a de king, all right. We don't appear to trot in your class. How'd ye learn?" "All Italian mans know how shoot--learn in de army. I shoot-a long time. Shoot-a Afric'." "Africa!" said Peter. "You been in Africa?" "Two time," Vittorio nodded. "What'd ye shoot there--lions?" "No, no lion." Vittorio raised his shoulders with a deprecatory air. "Just man." "Oh!" said Peter. His tone was noticeably subdued. Mr. Harry Jasper, also attracted by the shooting, came strolling along the beach to see how the match was going, but arrived too late to witness Vittorio's spectacular exhibit. Mr. Harry considered himself a pretty good shot; he had often beaten Peter, and Peter entertained a slightly malicious desire to see him worsted once at his own game. "Oh, Mr. Harry!" he called carelessly. "We've been tryin' our hands at yer target, like ye said we might, an' this here new gardener-man come along an' wanted to have a try. He's a surprisin' good shot for an Eye-talian. Ye wouldn't believe it, but he beat Pat an' he beat me. Would you mind shootin' with him once? I'd like to show him what Americans can do." Peter's tone was a touch over-careless. Mr. Harry glanced at him suspiciously, and from him to Vittorio, who was looking on with amiable aloofness, quite unaware that he was the subject of discussion. Mr. Harry had not been entirely blind to the trials of David's peaceable successor, and he was glad to see that the man was coming to the top. "So he's beaten you? How does that happen, Peter? I thought you prided yourself on your shooting." "I'm a little out o' practice," said Peter. Mr. Harry ran his eye over Vittorio's well-set-up figure. "Served in the army, Vittorio?" "Si, signore, five year." "What corps--_Bersaglieri_?" "Si, si!" Vittorio's face was alight. "I b'long _Bersaglieri_. How you know?" "Thank you for your interest, Peter," Mr. Harry laughed. "I don't believe I'll shoot with him to-day. I'm a little out of practice myself." Peter's face was mystified. "The _Bersaglieri_," Mr. Harry explained, "are the sharpshooters of the Italian army, and a well-trained lot they are. You and I, Peter, are amateurs; we don't enter matches against them when we know what we're about."