"What? This very night?"

"This very night. We need the blood and meat. We shall pour the
blood into the Passeyr, and you will see tomorrow that we need the
meat, for I believe we shall have a great many guests in the
morning."

Andreas Hofer's prophecy was fulfilled. Already early in the morning
a great many men assembled in front of the inn Zum Sand. They were
the sharpshooters of the Passeyr valley, who were flocking from all
parts of the district to Hofer's house to report to the beloved
commander of Passeyr. They came down from the mountains and up from
the valleys. They wore their holiday dresses, and their yellow
Sunday hats were decorated with bouquets of rosemary and handsome
ribbons. They were merry and in the best of spirits, as if they were
going to the dance; only instead of their rosy-cheeked girls, they
held their trusty rifles in their arms. Nevertheless, they smacked
their lips, uttered loud exclamations of joy, and shouted as merrily
as larks--"'Tis time! The Bavarians must leave the country! Long
live the emperor! Long live the Archduke John!"

And echo seemed to answer, "The Bavarians must leave the country!"
But it was not echo that had repeated these words. They proceeded
from the throats of merry men, and a gay procession descended now
from the mountain-path. It consisted of the sharpshooters and
peasants of Meran and Algund, who were marching up in the beautiful
costumes of the Adige valley. Oh, how their eyes flashed, and the
rifles in their arms also. And with what jubilant Jodlers the men of
Passeyr received their dear friends from Algund and Meran.