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 desolate 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 precipice, or be overtaken by an avalanche, 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 complacently,
"never gets hurt. The mountain has no terror for her children. I am a
child of the mountain."

"You are certainly a child!" snapped Hedwig. "It is no use my arguing
with you."

"Not very much," agreed Tell, "for I am just off to the town. I have an
appointment with your papa and some other gentlemen."

(I forgot to say so before, but Hedwig was the daughter of Walter
Furst.)

"Now, _what_ are you and papa plotting?" asked Hedwig. "I know
there is something going on. I suspected it when papa brought Werner
Stauffacher and the other man here, and you wouldn't let me listen.
What is it? Some dangerous scheme, I suppose?"

"Now, how in the world do you get those sort of ideas into your head?"