“Aye. But as soon as the target’s hit, that’s the end of the contest. Maybe the first man’ll hit it. Maybe no one will—then they’ll have to shoot again.”

“And does it have to be a musket?” said Eliza.

“Musket, pistol, cannon, whatever you like,” he said.

“There, Maxie,” she said, in triumph, turning back to him. “Remember how Miss Davenport showed you how to fire your trombone?”

“It ain’t a trombone, Eliza, it’s a—” He stopped, as he suddenly realized what she meant. “No, I couldn’t,” he said. “Surely not? I wonder, though—I’d have to go and practice. But no, I couldn’t….”

I didn’t know what they were talking about; but didn’t have time to ask, because at that very moment two small figures wandered around the corner of the Mayor’s house and stood, bemused, looking around as if for someone they knew.

“Miss Lucy!” I cried. “Miss Charlotte!”

They ran, and I ran, and Max and Eliza came after me, and we all met in the middle somewhere. The green was filling up now, and people looked at us curiously—and no wonder, because we might, from our exuberance, have been welcoming each other back from the grave. And perhaps (a chilly thought that came and went in a moment) we were.

“You’re safe!” I cried, and Eliza said, “What happened?” and Max said, “You’re all right, then?” all at once; and Lucy said, “Peter got there just in time!” and Charlotte said, “Oh, it was awful—you’d never believe it. We thought we were lost for ever—” And by the time we’d got those first words out, I’d noticed, and Eliza had noticed too, that the girls were wet through and shivering and worn out. So I made them come with me back to the Jolly Huntsman, to sit by the fire and have something to eat and drink. Ma fussed over them, and I let her, because they needed it; and Max and Eliza sat there, open-mouthed, as Lucy told what had happened in the hunting lodge.

But first—where was Peter? Safe, it seemed, and Hannerl’s face grinned seemingly of its own accord, because she couldn’t control it at all. He was waiting out of sight for the time being, until the shooting began; he’d take his chance then, but he didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted and caught before he’d even had a try at the target.

And while Charlotte sipped some hot milk and yawned and nodded, steaming like a pudding in front of the fire, Lucy explained how Peter had rescued them.