“No,” said Gessler—”no, Tell. That is not at all what I want. If I had wished my soldiers to kill you, I should not have waited for a formal invitation from you. I have no desire to see you slain. Not at present. I wish to see you shoot. Come, Tell, they say you can do everything, and are afraid of nothing. Only the other day, I hear, you carried a man, one Baumgartner—that was his name, I think—across a rough sea in an open boat. You may remember it? I particularly wished to catch Baumgartner, Tell. Now, this is a feat which calls for much less courage. Simply to shoot an apple off a boy’s head. A child could do it.”
While he was speaking, Tell had been standing in silence, his hands trembling and his eyes fixed, sometimes on the Governor, sometimes on the sky. He now seized his quiver, and taking from it a second arrow, placed it in his belt. Gessler watched him, but said nothing.
“Shoot, father!” cried Walter from the other end of the lane; “I’m not afraid.”
Tell, calm again now, raised his bow and took a steady aim. Everybody craned forward, the front ranks in vain telling those behind that there was nothing to be gained by pushing. Gessler bent over his horse’s neck and peered eagerly towards Walter. A great hush fell on all as Tell released the string.
“Phut!” went the string, and the arrow rushed through the air.
A moment’s suspense, and then a terrific cheer rose from the spectators.
[Illustration: PLATE XII]
The apple had leaped from Walter’s head, pierced through the centre.
CHAPTER XIII
Intense excitement instantly reigned. Their suspense over, the crowd cheered again and again, shook hands with one another, and flung their caps into the air. Everyone was delighted, for everyone was fond of Tell and Walter. It also pleased them to see the Governor disappointed. He had had things his own way for so long that it was a pleasant change to see him baffled in this manner. Not since Switzerland became a nation had the meadow outside the city gates been the scene of such rejoicings.
Walter had picked up the apple with the arrow piercing it, and was showing it proudly to all his friends.
“I told you so,” he kept saying; “I knew father wouldn’t hurt me. Father’s the best shot in all Switzerland.”
“That was indeed a shot!” exclaimed Ulric the smith; “it will ring through the ages. While the mountains stand will the tale of Tell the bowman be told.”
Rudolph der Harras took the apple from Walter and showed it to Gessler, who had been sitting transfixed on his horse.
“See,” he said, “the arrow has passed through the very centre. It was a master shot.”
“It was very nearly a ‘Master Walter shot,’” said Rosselmann the priest severely, fixing the Governor with a stern eye.
Gessler made no answer. He sat looking moodily at Tell, who had dropped his crossbow and was standing motionless, still gazing in the direction in which the arrow had sped. Nobody liked to be the first to speak to him.
“Well,” said Rudolph der Harras, breaking an awkward silence, “I suppose it’s all over now? May as well be moving, eh?”
He bit a large piece out of the apple, which he still held. Walter uttered a piercing scream as he saw the mouthful disappear. Up till now he had shown no signs of dismay, in spite of the peril which he had had to face; but when he watched Rudolph eating the apple, which he naturally looked upon as his own property, he could not keep quiet any longer. Rudolph handed him the apple with an apology, and he began to munch it contentedly.
“Come with me to your mother, my boy,” said Rosselmann.
Walter took no notice, but went on eating the apple.
Tell came to himself with a start, looked round for Walter, and began to lead him away in the direction of his home, deaf to all the cheering that was going on around him.
Gessler leaned forward in his saddle.
“Tell,” he said, “a word with you.”
Tell came back.
“Your Excellency?”
“Before you go I wish you to explain one thing.”
“A thousand, your Excellency.”
“No, only one. When you were getting ready to shoot at the apple you placed an arrow in the string and a second arrow in your belt.”
“A second arrow!” Tell pretended to be very much astonished, but the pretence did not deceive the Governor.
“Yes, a second arrow. Why was that? What did you intend to do with that arrow, Tell?”
Tell looked down uneasily, and twisted his bow about in his hands.
“My lord,” he said at last, “it is a bowman’s custom. All archers place a second arrow in their belt.”
“No, Tell,” said Gessler, “I cannot take that answer as the truth. I know there was some other meaning in what you did. Tell me the reason without concealment. Why was it? Your life is safe, whatever it was, so speak out. Why did you take out that second arrow?”
Tell stopped fidgeting with his bow, and met the Governor’s eye with a steady gaze.
“Since you promise me my life, your Excellency,” he replied, drawing himself up, “I will tell you.”
