Many of the stones, that had been thrown, struck the slates on the roof; not one had passed over the church.

The longer the unsuccessful efforts lasted, the more evident became the superior smile on Ulrich's lips, the faster his heart throbbed.

His eyes searched the grass, and when he had discovered a flat, sharp-edged stone, he hurriedly stooped, pressed silently into the ranks of the players, and bending the upper part of his body far back, summoned all his strength, and hurled the stone in a beautiful curve high into the air.
Forty sparkling eyes followed it, and a loud shout of joy rang out as it vanished behind the church roof.

One alone, a tall, thin, black-haired lad, remained silent, and while the others were begging Ulrich to throw again, searched for a stone, exerted all his power to equal the 11 "greenhorn," and almost succeeded.

Ulrich now sent a second stone after the first, and, again the cast was successful.