All this time the people crowded round silent and wondering, and Tell stood among them as if in a dream, watching everything with a look of horror in his eyes.

“Clear a path there,” shouted Gessler, and the soldiers charged among the people, scattering them right and left.

When a path had been cleared, two soldiers, starting from the tree to which Walter was bound, marched over the ground, measuring one hundred paces, and halted.  “One hundred paces, my lord,” they said, turning to Gessler.

Gessler rode to the spot, calling out, “Come, Tell, from here you shall shoot.”

Tell took his place.  He drew an arrow from his quiver, examined it carefully, and then, instead of fitting it to his bow, he stuck it in his belt.  Then, still carefully, he chose another arrow and fitted it to his bow.

A deep silence fell upon every one as Tell took one step forward.  He raised his bow.  A mist was before his eyes, his arm trembled, his bow dropped from his hand.  He could not shoot.  The fear that he might kill his boy took away all his skill and courage.

A groan broke from the people as they watched.  Then from far away under the lime-tree came Walter’s voice, “Shoot, father, I am not afraid.  You cannot miss.”

Once more Tell raised his bow.  The silence seemed deeper than ever.  The people of Altorf knew and loved Tell, and Fuerst, and little Walter.  And so they watched and waited with heavy hearts and anxious faces.

“Ping!” went the bowstring.  The arrow seemed to sing through the frosty air, and, a second later, the silence was broken by cheer after cheer.  The apple lay upon the ground pierced right through the center.

One man sprang forward and cut the rope with which Walter was bound to the tree; another picked up the apple and ran with it to Gessler.  But Tell stood still, his bow clutched in his hand, his body bent forward, his eyes wild and staring, as if he were trying to follow the flight of the arrow.  Yet he saw nothing, heard nothing.

“He has really done it!” exclaimed Gessler in astonishment, as he turned the apple round and round in his hand.  “Who would have thought it?  Right in the center, too.”

Little Walter, quite delighted, came running to his father.  “Father,” he cried, “I knew you could do it.  I knew you could, and I was not a bit afraid.  Was it not splendid?” and he laughed and pressed his curly head against his father.

Then suddenly Tell seemed to wake out of his dream, and taking Walter in his arms he held him close, kissing him again and again.  “You are safe, my boy.  You are safe,” was all he said.  But strong man though he was his eyes were full of tears, and he was saying to himself, “I might have killed him.  I might have killed my own boy.”

Meanwhile Gessler sat upon his horse watching them with a cruel smile upon his wicked face.  “Tell,” he said at last, “that was a fine shot, but for what was the other arrow?”