The colour mounted to the cheek of the free-born hunter of the Alps, at the sight of this badge of slavery of his fallen country.  Casting an indignant glance upon the foreign soldiers who had impeded his progress, he moved sternly forward, without offering the prescribed act of homage to the cap.

“Stop!” cried the captain of the guard; “you are incurring the penalty of death, rash man, by your disobedience to the edict of his excellency the Governor of Uri.”

“Indeed!” replied Tell.  “I was not aware that I was doing anything unlawful.”

“You have insulted the majesty of our lord the Emperor by passing that cap without bowing to it,” said the officer.

“I wist not that more respect were due to an empty cap, than to a cloak and doublet, or a pair of hose,” replied Tell.

“Insolent traitor! dost thou presume to level thy rude gibes at the badge of royalty?” cried the governor, stepping forward from behind the soldiers, where he had been listening to the dispute between Tell and the officer.

Poor Lalotte, meantime, having caught a glimpse of her uncle’s tall, manly figure through the crowd, had pressed near enough to hear the alarming dialogue in which he had been engaged with the German soldiers.  While, pale with terror, she stood listening with breathless attention, she recognised Philip at no great distance, with little Henric in his arms, among the spectators.

The thoughtless Philip was evidently neither aware how near he was to his uncle, nor of the peril in which he stood.  With foolish glee, he was pointing out the cap to little Henric; and though Lalotte could not hear what he was saying, she fancied he was rashly boasting to the child of the share in the exploit of pelting it down a few nights previous.

While her attention was thus painfully excited she heard some of the people round her saying,

“Who is it that has ventured to resist the governor’s decree?”

“It is William Tell, the crossbow-man of Burglen,” replied many voices.

“William Tell!” said one of the soldiers; “why it was his kinsman who raised a rabble to insult the ducal bonnet the other night.”

“Ay, it was the scapegrace, Philip Tell, who assailed the cap of our sovereign with stones, till he struck it down,” cried another.

“Behold where the young villain stands,” exclaimed a third, pointing to Philip.

“Hallo, hallo! seize the young traitor, in the name of the Emperor and the governor!” shouted the Germans.

“Run, Philip, run—­run for your life!” cried a party of his youthful associates.

Philip hastily set his little cousin on his feet, and started off with the speed of the wild chamois of the Alpine mountains; leaving little Henric to shift for himself.

“The child, the child! the precious boy! he will be trampled to death!” shrieked Lalotte.

Henric had caught sight of his father among the crowd while Philip was holding him up to look at the ducal cap, and he had been much alarmed lest his father should see him.  But the moment he found himself abandoned by Philip, he lifted up his voice, and screamed with all his might, “Father, father!”