eyes, while praying
inwardly to God to shield his dear child from harm. Then, bidding the
boy to stand firm and not be frightened, as his father would do his best
not to harm him, he raised the perilous bow.

The legend deals too briefly with this story. It fails to picture the
scene in the market-place. But there, we may be sure, in addition to
Gessler and his guards, were most of the people of Uri, their hearts
burning with sympathy for their countryman and hatred of the tyrant,
their feelings almost wrought up to the point of attacking Gessler and
his guards, and daring death in defence of their liberties. There also
we may behold in fancy the brave child, scarcely old enough to
appreciate the magnitude of his peril, but looking with simple faith
into the kind eyes of his father, who stands firm of frame but trembling
in heart before him, the death-dealing bow in his hand.

In a minute more the bow is bent, Tell's unerring eye glances along the
shaft, the string twangs sharply, the arrow speeds through the air, and
the apple, pierced through its centre, is borne from the head of the
boy, who leaps forward with a glad cry of triumph, while the unnerved
father, with tears of joy in his eyes, flings the bow to the ground and
clasps his child to his heart.

"By my faith, Tell, that is a wonderful shot!" cried the astonished
governor. "Men have not belied you. But why have you stuck another arrow
in your collar?"

"That is the custom among marksmen," Tell hesitatingly answered.

"Come, man, speak the truth openly and without fear," said Gessler, who
noted Tell's hesitancy. "Your life is safe; but I am not satisfied with
your answer."

"Then," said Tell, regaining his courage, "if you would have the truth,
it is this. If I had struck my child with the first arrow, the other was
intended for you; and with that I should not have missed my mark."

The governor started at these bold words, and his brow clouded with
anger.

"I promised you your life," he exclaimed, "and will keep my word; but,
as you cherish evil intentions against me, I shall make sure that you
cannot carry them out. You are not safe to leave at large, and shall be
taken to a place where you can never again behold the sun or the moon."

Turning to his guards, he bade them seize the bold marksman, bind his
hands, and take him in a boat across the lake to his castle at Kuessnach,
where he should do penance for his evil intentions by spending the
rema