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?"

Tell put Walter down and, holding his hand, turned to Gessler, "It is
always an archer's custom, my lord, to have a second arrow ready," he
said.

"Nay, nay," said Gessler, "that answer will not do, Tell. Speak the
truth."

Tell was silent.

"Speak, man," said Gessler, "and if you speak the truth, whatever it
may be, I promise you your life."

"Then," said Tell, throwing his shoulders back and looking straight at
Gessler, "since you promise me my life, hear the truth, if that first
arrow had struck my child, the second one was meant for you, and be
sure I had not missed my mark a second time."

Gessler's face grew dark with rage. For a moment or two he could not
speak. When at last he did speak, his voice was low and terrible, "You
dare," he said, "you dare to tell me thi