William Tell Told Again Part 2

"Rebel?" cried everybody.

"Rebel!" repeated Walter firmly.

"We will!" cried everybody.

"Down with the tyrant!" shouted Walter Furst.

"Down with the taxes!" shrieked the crowd.

A scene of great enthusiasm followed. The last words were spoken by Werner Stauffacher.

"We want a leader," he said.

"I don't wish to thrust myself forward," began Arnold of Sewa, "but I must say, if it comes to leading--"

"And I know the very man for the job," said Werner Stauffacher.

"William Tell!"

"Hurrah for William Tell!" roared the crowd, and, taking the time from Werner Stauffacher, they burst into the grand old Swiss chant which runs as follows:

"For he's a jolly good fellow!

For he's a jolly good fellow!!

For he's a jolly good fe-e-ll-ow!!!!

And so say all of us!"

And having sung this till they were all quite hoa.r.s.e, they went off to their beds to get a few hours' sleep before beginning the labours of the day.

CHAPTER III

In a picturesque little chalet high up in the mountains, covered with snow and edelweiss (which is a flower that grows in the Alps, and you are not allowed to pick it), dwelt William Tell, his wife Hedwig, and his two sons, Walter and William. Such a remarkable man was Tell that I think I must devote a whole chapter to him and his exploits. There was really nothing he could not do. He was the best shot with the cross-bow in the whole of Switzerland. He had the courage of a lion, the sure-footedness of a wild goat, the agility of a squirrel, and a beautiful beard. If you wanted someone to hurry across desolate ice-fields, and leap from crag to crag after a chamois, Tell was the man for your money. If you wanted a man to say rude things to the Governor, it was to Tell that you applied first. Once when he was hunting in the wild ravine of Schachenthal, where men were hardly ever to be seen, he met the Governor face to face. There was no way of getting past. On one side the rocky wall rose sheer up, while below the river roared. Directly Gessler caught sight of Tell striding along with his cross-bow, his cheeks grew pale and his knees tottered, and he sat down on a rock feeling very unwell indeed.

"Aha!" said Tell. "Oho! so it's you, is it? _I_ know you. And a nice sort of person you are, with your taxes on bread and sheep, aren't you! You'll come to a bad end one of these days, that's what will happen to you. Oh, you old reprobate! Pooh!" And he had pa.s.sed on with a look of scorn, leaving Gessler to think over what he had said. And Gessler ever since had had a grudge against him, and was only waiting for a chance of paying him out.

"Mark my words," said Tell's wife, Hedwig, when her husband told her about it after supper that night--"mark my words, he will never forgive you."

"I will avoid him," said Tell. "He will not seek me."

"Well, mind you do," was Hedwig's reply.

On another occasion, when the Governor's soldiers were chasing a friend of his, called Baumgarten, and when Baumgarten's only chance of escape was to cross the lake during a fierce storm, and when the ferryman, sensibly remarking, "What! must I rush into the jaws of death? No man that hath his senses would do that!" refused to take out his boat even for twice his proper fare, and when the soldiers rode down to seize their prey with dreadful shouts, Tell jumped into the boat, and, rowing with all his might, brought his friend safe across after a choppy pa.s.sage. Which made Gessler the Governor still more angry with him.

But it was as a marksman that Tell was so extraordinary. There was n.o.body in the whole of the land who was half so skilful. He attended every meeting for miles around where there was a shooting compet.i.tion, and every time he won first prize. Even his rivals could not help praising his skill. "Behold!" they would say, "Tell is quite the pot-hunter," meaning by the last word a man who always went in for every prize, and always won it. And Tell would say, "Yes, truly am I a pot-hunter, for I hunt to fill the family pot." And so he did. He never came home empty-handed from the chase. Sometimes it was a chamois that he brought back, and then the family had it roasted on the first day, cold on the next four, and minced on the sixth, with sippets of toast round the edge of the dish. Sometimes it was only a bird (as on the cover of this book), and then Hedwig would say, "Mark my words, this fowl will not go round." But it always did, and it never happened that there was not even a fowl to eat.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Frontispiece]

In fact, Tell and his family lived a very happy, contented life, in spite of the Governor Gessler and his taxes.

Tell was very patriotic. He always believed that some day the Swiss would rise and rebel against the tyranny of the Governor, and he used to drill his two children so as to keep them always in a state of preparation. They would march about, beating tin cans and shouting, and altogether enjoying themselves immensely, though Hedwig, who did not like noise, and wanted Walter and William to help her with the housework, made frequent complaints. "Mark my words," she would say, "this growing spirit of militarism in the young and foolish will lead to no good," meaning that boys who played at soldiers instead of helping their mother to dust the chairs and scrub the kitchen floor would in all probability come to a bad end. But Tell would say, "Who hopes to fight his way through life must be prepared to wield arms.

Carry on, my boys!" And they carried on. It was to this man that the Swiss people had determined to come for help.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLATE II]

CHAPTER IV

Talking matters over in the inn of the town, the Gla.s.s and Glacier, the citizens came to the conclusion that they ought to appoint three spokesmen to go and explain to Tell just what they wanted him to do.

"I don't wish to seem to boast at all," said Arnold of Sewa, "but I think I had better be one of the three."

"I was thinking," said Werner Stauffacher, "that it would be a pity always to be chopping and changing. Why not choose the same three as were sent to Gessler?"

"I don't desire to be unpleasant at all," replied Arnold of Sewa, "but I must be forgiven for reminding the honourable gentleman who has just spoken that he and his equally honourable friends did not meet with the best of success when they called upon the Governor."

"Well, and you didn't either!" snapped Arnold of Melchthal, whose finger still hurt him, and made him a little bad-tempered.

"That," said Arnold of Sewa, "I put down entirely to the fact that you and your friends, by not exercising tact, irritated the Governor, and made him unwilling to listen to anybody else. Nothing is more important in these affairs than tact. That's what you want--tact. But have it your own way. Don't mind _me!_"

And the citizens did not. They chose Werner Stauffacher, Arnold of Melchthal, and Walter Furst, and, having drained their gla.s.ses, the three trudged up the steep hill which led to Tell's house.

It had been agreed that everyone should wait at the Gla.s.s and Glacier until the three spokesmen returned, in order that they might hear the result of their mission. Everybody was very anxious. A revolution without Tell would be quite impossible, and it was not unlikely that Tell might refuse to be their leader. The worst of a revolution is that, if it fails, the leader is always executed as an example to the rest. And many people object to being executed, however much it may set a good example to their friends. On the other hand, Tell was a brave man and a patriot, and might be only too eager to try to throw off the tyrant's yoke, whatever the risk. They had waited about an hour, when they saw the three spokesmen coming down the hill. Tell was not with them, a fact which made the citizens suspect that he had refused their offer. The first thing a man does when he has accepted the leadership of a revolution is to come and plot with his companions.

"Well?" said everybody eagerly, as the three arrived.

Werner Stauffacher shook his head.

"Ah," said Arnold of Sewa, "I see what it is. He has refused. You didn't exercise tact, and he refused."

"We _did_ exercise tact," said Stauffacher indignantly; "but he would not be persuaded. It was like this: We went to the house and knocked at the door. Tell opened it. 'Good-morning,' I said.

"'Good-morning,' said he. 'Take a seat.'

"I took a seat.

"'My heart is full,' I said, 'and longs to speak with you.' I thought that a neat way of putting it."

The company murmured approval.

"'A heavy heart,' said Tell, 'will not grow light with words.'"

"Not bad that!" murmured Jost Weiler. "Clever way of putting things, Tell has got."