“It’s my belief,” said Leuthold (Leuthold is the thin soldier you see in the picture)—”it’s my firm belief that they are laughing at us. There! Listen to that!”
A voice made itself heard from behind a rock not far off.
“Where did you get that hat?” said the voice.
“There!” grumbled Leuthold; “they’re always at it. Last time it was, ‘Who’s your hatter?’ Why, we’re the laughing-stock of the place. We’re like two rogues in a pillory. ‘Tis rank disgrace for one who wears a sword to stand as sentry o’er an empty hat. To make obeisance to a hat! I’ faith, such a command is downright foolery!”
“Well,” said Friesshardt, “and why not bow before an empty hat? Thou hast oft bow’d before an empty skull. Ha, ha! I was always one for a joke, yer know.”
“Here come some people,” said Leuthold. “At last! And they’re only the rabble, after all. You don’t catch any of the better sort of people coming here.”
A crowd was beginning to collect on the edge of the meadow. Its numbers swelled every minute, until quite a hundred of the commoner sort must have been gathered together. They stood pointing at the pole and talking among themselves, but nobody made any movement to cross the meadow.
At last somebody shouted “Yah!”
The soldiers took no notice.
Somebody else cried “Booh!”’
“Pass along there, pass along!” said the soldiers.
Cries of “Where did you get that hat?” began to come from the body of the crowd. When the Swiss invented a catch-phrase they did not drop it in a hurry.
“Where—did—you—get—that—HAT?” they shouted.
Friesshardt and Leuthold stood like two statues in armour, paying no attention to the remarks of the rabble. This annoyed the rabble. They began to be more personal.
“You in the second-hand lobster-tin,” shouted one—he meant Friesshardt, whose suit of armour, though no longer new, hardly deserved this description—”who’s your hatter?”
“Can’t yer see,” shouted a friend, when Friesshardt made no reply, “the pore thing ain’t alive? ‘E’s stuffed!”
Roars of laughter greeted this sally. Friesshardt, in spite of the fact that he enjoyed a joke, turned pink.
“‘E’s blushing!” shrieked a voice.
Friesshardt turned purple.
Then things got still more exciting.
“‘Ere,” said a rough voice in the crowd impatiently, “wot’s the good of
And in another instant an egg flew across the meadow, and burst over Leuthold’s shoulder. The crowd howled with delight. This was something
[Illustration: PLATE III]
A deafening cheer went up.
“Hurrah!” cried the mob; “here comes good old Tell!
CHAPTER VIII
Tell came striding along, Walter by his side, and his crossbow over his shoulder. He knew nothing about the hat having been placed on the pole, and he was surprised to see such a large crowd gathered in the meadow. He bowed to the crowd in his polite way, and the crowd gave three cheers and one more, and he bowed again.
“Hullo!” said Walter suddenly; “look at that hat up there, father. On the pole.”
“What is the hat to us?” said Tell; and he began to walk across the meadow with an air of great dignity, and Walter walked by his side, trying to look just like him.
“Here! hi!” shouted the soldiers. “Stop! You haven’t bowed down to the cap.”
[Illustration: PLATE IV]
Tell looked scornful, but said nothing. Walter looked still more scornful.
“Ho, there!” shouted Friesshardt, standing in front of him. “I bid you stand in the Emperor’s name.”
“My good fellow,” said Tell, “please do not bother me. I am in a hurry. I really have nothing for you.”
“My orders is,” said Friesshardt, “to stand in this ‘ere meadow and to see as how all them what passes through it does obeisance to that there hat. Them’s Governor’s orders, them is. So now.”
“My good fellow,” said Tell, “let me pass. I shall get cross, I know I shall.”
Shouts of encouragement from the crowd, who were waiting patiently for the trouble to begin.
“Go it, Tell!” they cried. “Don’t stand talking to him. Hit him a kick!”
