“Tell!” shouted the crowd. “Hurrah for Tell! Good old Tell!”
“Tell’s the boy!” roared Ulric the smith. “Not another man in Switzerland could have made that shot.”
“No,” shrieked everybody, “not another!”
“Speech!” cried someone from the edge of the crowd.
“Speech! Speech! Tell, speech!” Everybody took up the cry.
“No, no,” said Tell, blushing.
“Go on, go on!” shouted the crowd.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Tell; “I don’t know what to say.”
“Anything will do. Speech! Speech!”
Ulric the smith and Ruodi the fisherman hoisted Tell on to their shoulders, and, having coughed once or twice, he said:
“Gentlemen—”
Cheers from the crowd.
“Gentlemen,” said Tell again, “this is the proudest moment of my life.”
More cheers.
“I don’t know what you want me to talk about. I have never made a speech before. Excuse my emotion. This is the proudest moment of my life. To-day is a great day for Switzerland. We have struck the first blow of the revolution. Let us strike some more.”
Shouts of “Hear, hear!” from the crowd, many of whom, misunderstanding Tell’s last remark, proceeded to hit Leuthold and Friesshardt, until stopped by cries of “Order!” from Ulric the smith.
“Gentlemen,” continued Tell, “the floodgates of revolution have been opened. From this day they will stalk through the land burning to ashes the slough of oppression which our tyrant Governor has erected in our midst. I have only to add that this is the proudest moment of my life, and–-“
He was interrupted by a frightened voice.
“Look out, you chaps,” said the voice; “here comes the Governor!”
Gessler, with a bodyguard of armed men, had entered the meadow, and was galloping towards them.
CHAPTER X
Gessler came riding up on his brown horse, and the crowd melted away in all directions, for there was no knowing what the Governor might not do if he found them plotting. They were determined to rebel and to throw off his tyrannous yoke, but they preferred to do it quietly and comfortably, when he was nowhere near.
So they ran away to the edge of the meadow, and stood there in groups, waiting to see what was going to happen. Not even Ulric the smith and Ruodi the fisherman waited, though they knew quite well that Tell had not nearly finished his speech. They set the orator down, and began to walk away, trying to look as if they had been doing nothing in particular, and were going to go on doing it—only somewhere else.
Tell was left standing alone in the middle of the meadow by the pole. He scorned to run away like the others, but he did not at all like the look of things. Gessler was a stern man, quick to punish any insult, and there were two of his soldiers lying on the ground with their nice armour all spoiled and dented, and his own cap on top of the pole had an arrow right through the middle of it, and would never look the same again, however much it might be patched. It seemed to Tell that there was a bad time coming.
Gessler rode up, and reined in his horse.
“Now then, now then, now then!” he said, in his quick, abrupt way. “What’s this? what’s this? what’s this?”
(When a man repeats what he says three times, you can see that he is not in a good temper.)
Friesshardt and Leuthold got up, saluted, and limped slowly towards him. They halted beside his horse, and stood to attention. The tears trickled down their cheeks.
“Come, come, come!” said Gessler; “tell me all about it.”
[Illustration: PLATE IX]
And he patted Friesshardt on the head. Friesshardt bellowed.
Gessler beckoned to one of his courtiers.
“Have you a handkerchief?” he said.
“I have a handkerchief, your Excellency.”
“Then dry this man’s eyes.”
The courtier did as he was bidden.
“
“Please, your lordship’s noble Excellencyship,” said Friesshardt, “it was me, Friesshardt.”
“You should say, ‘It was I,’” said Gessler. “Proceed.”
“Which I am a loyal servant of your Excellency’s, and in your Excellency’s army, and seeing as how I was told to stand by this ‘ere pole and guard that there hat, I stood by this ‘ere pole, and guarded that there hat—all day, I did,
