The marksmen thronged towards the spot where the target-shooting was;
Rudy was soon among them and he was the best, the luckiest, for he
always hit the mark.

"Who can the strange hunter be?" they asked, "He speaks the French
language as though he came from Canton Valais!" "He speaks our German
very distinctly!" said others. "He is said to have lived in the
neighbourhood of Grindelwald, when a child!" said one of them.

There was life in the youth; his eyes sparkled, his aim was true. Good
luck gives courage, and Rudy had courage at all times; he soon had a
large circle of friends around him, they praised him, they did homage
to him, and Babette had almost entirely left his thoughts. At that
moment a heavy hand struck him on the shoulder, and a gruff voice
addressed him in the French tongue:

"You are from Canton Valais?"

Rudy turned around. A stout person, with a red, contented countenance,
stood by him and that was the rich miller of Bex. He covered with his
wide body, the slight pretty Babette, who however, soon peeped out
with her beaming dark eyes. The rich peasant became consequential
because the hunter from his canton had made the best shot and was the
honoured one. Rudy was certainly a favourite of fortune, that, for
which he had journeyed thither and almost forgotten had sought him.

When one meets a countryman far from one's home, why then one knows
one another, and speaks together. Rudy was the first at the shooting
festival and the miller was the first at Bex, through his money and