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."

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