"Father," said Walter.

 

"Yes, my boy?"

 

"My bow-string has bust²." ("Bust" was what all Swiss boys said when they meant "broken.")

 

"You must mend it yourself, my boy," said Tell. "A sportsman always helps himself."

 

"What I say," said Hedwig, bustling³ out of the house, "is that a boy of his age has no business to be shooting. I don't like it."

 

"Nobody can shoot well if he does not begin to practise early. Why, when I was a boy--I remember on one occasion, when--"

 

"What I say," interrupted Hedwig, "is that a boy ought not to want always to be shooting, and what not. He ought to stay at home and help his mother. And I wish you would set them a better example."

 

"Well, the fact is, you know," said Tell, "I don't think Nature meant me to be a stay-at-home and that sort of thing. I couldn't be a herdsman if you paid me. I shouldn't know what to do. No; everyone has his special line, and mine is hunting. Now, I can hunt."

 

"A nasty, dangerous occupation," said Hedwig. "I don't like to hear of your being lost on desolate⁴ ice-fields, and leaping from crag to crag, and what not. Some day, mark my words, if you are not careful, you will fall down a precipice⁵, or be overtaken by an avalanche⁶, or the ice will break while you are crossing it. There are a thousand ways in which you might get hurt."

 

"A man of ready wit with a quick eye," replied Tell

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