Gessler began to mock him once more.

   "You see now," he said, "the danger of carrying arms. I don't know if
you have ever noticed it, but arrows very often recoil on the man who
carries them. The only man who has any business to possess a weapon is
the ruler of a country—myself, for instance. A low, common fellow—if
you will excuse the description—like yourself only grows proud through
being armed, and so offends those above him. But, of course, it's no
business of mine. I am only telling you what I think about it.
Personally, I like to encourage my subjects to shoot; that is why I am
giving you such a splendid mark to shoot at. You see, Tell?"

   Tell did not reply. He raised his bow and pointed it. There was a stir
of excitement in the crowd, more particularly in that part of the crowd
which stood on his right, for, his hand trembling for the first time in
his life, Tell had pointed his arrow, not at his son, but straight into
the heart of the crowd.

   [Illustration: PLATE XI]

   "Here! Hi! That's the wrong way! More to the left!" shouted the people
in a panic, while Gessler roared with laughter, and bade Tell shoot and
chance it.

   "If you can't hit the apple or your son," he chuckled, "you can bring
down one of your dear fellow-countrymen."

   Tell lowered his bow, and a sigh of relief went through the crowd.

   "My eyes are swimming," he said; "I cannot see."

   Then he turned to the Governor.

   "I cannot shoot," he said; "bid your soldiers kill me."

   "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

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