A FEW hours after Rudolf had gone, Hofer was standing at the door of his hut, when he thought he saw a dark object stealthily moving among the firs. At first he took it for some animal of prey, but his next impression was that it was a human creature on all fours; and, as he had certainly been himself seen, he thought he lost nothing by rushing out on the intruder. A man, creeping along under an ox-hide, started up, and proved to be Franz. "What do you here?" cried Hofer. "Why, Sandwirth, can that be you?" said Franz, in seeming astonishment. "Why, how you surprise me! How are you?—How altered you are, to be sure!" "Very likely, Franz; but the question is, what brought you here to seek me?" "Nothing brought me—how should I guess where you were?" returned Franz, hardily. "I came to look for a strayed calf." "Well—I've sought for a strayed calf too, in my time, but never up this high in deep winter, nor yet on all fours with an ox-hide over me. Franz!—now, don't tamper with an old friend. I've oft had dealings with you, and I've done you many a kindness. You know, my lad, I'm in jeopardy, and you know that if you say where I am, you will get me into trouble—" "What matter is it of mine?" grumbled Franz. "What good would it do me?" "As to the real good it would do you, I think you would get none; but as to a handful of zwanzigers, I dare say they would give you so much, for the price of your old friend's blood." "Don't talk in that way, Sandwirth," said Franz, whiningly. "Poor as I am,—and I'm very poor,—I hope I'm not so bad as you think me." "Well, Franz, as to poor, you have made a good deal of money in your time; and it has always been your way to be with full pockets one day and empty ones the next—" "But they're always empty now, Sandwirth, for I can't do a stroke of business, and my mother's dead, and my sister's married to Karl Hoven, and Karl won't speak to me; so that I'm really what one may call in want." "Well, boy, well—the case is hard, I grant ye: but bad as it is, you'll make it worse if you take to Franz looked sheepish, made a movement of his hand towards Hofer's, drew it back, and crept off. Even his gait was that of a caitiff. "How altered the Sandwirth is!" mused he—"his hair, that was raven black, is now half grey; his beard looks as if it hadn't been trimmed for a month. His face is full of lines and furrows, and he is very thin. Why, he isn't half the bulk he was!—very likely, knows pretty well what it is to want victuals. Well, so do I; and when a man wants victuals, it makes him ready to do things that he wouldn't think of doing when full fed. Why now, these two dollars will keep me four days, I'll say—they won't keep me longer, because, this cold weather, I must drink as well as eat. At the end of that time, I must starve, unless through Father Donay; for, as to Nicolas Wagner of Botzen,—no, At this instant, Franz—who, while his mind was thus pre-occupied, had unwittingly followed the path by which Rudolf had gone to the chÂlet instead of that by which he had returned from it—suddenly came upon the two bears, who instantly pursued him; and in his hurry and affright, he was precipitated The search which was being made for Speckbacher, all this time, was quite as vigorous as for Hofer. Minute descriptions of his person and dress were published, large rewards offered for his apprehension; and every nook and corner eagerly searched for him by cruel and greedy enemies. Speckbacher, on separating from his comrades, had first concealed himself in the little mountain hamlet of Dux; but his retreat being discovered, he was obliged to retire from the haunts of man, and was hunted from place to place, till at length he found refuge in heights hitherto deemed inaccessible save to the eagle and vulture. Here he underwent incredible sufferings from cold, hunger, and fatigue; but his indomitable nature made him prefer it to submission to the enemy. When Hofer returned to his chÂlet after the encounter with Franz, his wife observed, "I really do think, Anderl, it is now time you should cut off your beard. It makes you unlike everybody else; and, therefore, easily recognisable at a distance; whereas, should a spy to whom you were personally unknown, find his way up here, you, without your beard, might easily persuade him you were somebody else." "No, that would be the hardest thing in the world to me," said Hofer. "He might deceive himself about me; but I could not deceive him. Whenever a man has put to me the question, 'Are you Hofer?' I have never yet said 'No;' and I cannot begin now." Anna was going to remonstrate; but he smiled rather sadly at her and said— "It would be to little good, dear—we are already discovered by Franz." Here Johann burst into a loud fit of crying, and flung himself on the straw; while Anna stood speechless. "We had better go somewhere else, then," said she, after a moment. "Where? We dare not descend into the valleys; and if we stray about the mountains, Rudolf will not know where to find us, and we shall perish with hunger. Patience, dear wife! Rudolf may come again in a few days, and we can then concert fresh measures with him; or the emperor's safeguard may arrive in the meantime, and we can then avail ourselves of it." "Ah, I hope we shall!" "No doubt of it. Cheer up, Johann! Perhaps you will be staring at the pretty things in the shop-windows of Vienna in another fortnight. Come here, and see me carve this horn, and I'll tell you While Hofer amused this wayward little son with one story after another, rewarded therein by beguiling himself of his own heavy thoughts, Anna stood musing, with her eyes wistfully fixed on her husband's rifle. "It has brought down many a man in battle," thought she; "and why not now, if spies come lurking about him to make a prey of him? He would not do it, I know; but, I declare, if I espy any one prowling about that has no business here, I'll see if I can't manage to hit him myself!" Just four evenings after his previous visit, Rudolf reappeared. He did not think their provisions could fall short yet; but he was anxious about Franz, and he thought Hofer and his wife wanted cheering up, and would be glad to know the message to the emperor was already on its way; so he started with a fresh-filled basket. This time he met with no interruptions, and had a prosperous journey; he had also the comfort of finding his friends cheerful and hopeful. They talked about his marriage with Theresa in the spring; the household goods they would start with and those which they must provide; and many a sage maxim of thrifty housewifery did Anna repeat and Hofer laugh at, and Rudolf promise to bear faithfully in Rudolf, as usual, slept with Johann in the loft. He was tired with his journey, and the evening had altogether been more satisfactory than he expected; yet, somehow, he could not settle to sleep. The conversation respecting his marriage had been too interesting and exciting to enable him to compose himself; add to which, he had a vague fear of some evil impending over the Sandwirth, for which he seemed to have no need. When he slept by snatches, it was to dream painfully: of Theresa being borne from him by Franz over crackling ice, beneath which they both disappeared—of bears growling over her remains—of the emperor's escort coming too late—of Hofer's hut being attacked at dead of night—of the air ringing with the sharp reports of rifles—of his throwing himself between Hofer and Franz. Rudolf awoke with a start; and smiled to hear Johann talking in his sleep and saying, "Some more soup, mother." Then he lay wakeful, but still, till day began to break, when his quick ear became aware of the The next instant, the chÂlet-door was opened from within; and there stood the mild Hofer, in his red waistcoat and green jacket, with the medal round his neck; his dark eye calmly looking around. His was the first voice that broke the thrilling silence. "Speaks any one among you German?" The commandant, Captain Renouard, here stepped forward, accompanied by a gendarme, and said, hurriedly— "Are you Andreas Hofer?" "I am." The clear voice rang through the air. Turning to his wife, Johann, and Rudolf, he said,—"These have offended in nothing; let them not be bound." Then, addressing those whom he loved so deeply, he said— "Pray, and be steadfast. Suffer with patience: so will your sins be forgiven." Their bonds were not unloosed, and Hofer was heavily chained hand and foot. Captain Renouard entered the chÂlet for a moment, looked around, "This is a clumsy piece, after all," said he, handing it to the gendarme, after surveying it somewhat curiously. "Take care! it's loaded!" dodging it in some alarm, as the gendarme handled it carelessly. It would have been singular if he had been shot by Hofer's rifle, after all—the rifle that Hofer would not fire in his own defence. The word of command was given; the troops closed around the prisoners, and began to descend the mountain. Hofer trod as firmly as when the master of Innsbruck. Anna's face was smeared with tears; but she was too proud to sob, and chide Johann for crying. Rudolf's heart beat wildly. He looked on every side for Franz; but Franz, having brought the party to the verge of the hollow, had prudently decamped with Father Donay, to enjoy such peace of mind as his conscience would permit. On approaching a village, the French band struck up a lively strain of music, which nearly drove Anna out of her senses; and with loud huzzas, they proclaimed to the people who came rushing from their cottages, that they had captured the famous "General Sanvird; le fameux Birbone." They were answered with tears, maledictions, and lamentations. Though not permitted to approach the prisoners, the villagers "Never mind, Sandwirth! They'll bring vengeance on their own heads, Sandwirth! Keep a good heart! They won't dare to touch you! We'll never, never forget you!" And this in every town and village through which they passed. On reaching Meran, they were joined by the weeping Theresa. She had been seized and bound at am Sand, and the house plundered. The two little girls had escaped and taken refuge with Rudolf's mother. The only consolation of the unhappy family was that they were together; but at Botzen they were sundered. Here they were received with more courtesy and kindness by General Baraguay d'Hilliers than had yet been accorded them. He would not triumph over a fallen foe, but received the brave and unfortunate captive with a soldier's frankness. He affected to be indignant at his chains, ordered them instantly to be struck off, and appointed him and his family a tolerably commodious prison, where they were treated with as little rigour as was consistent with their safety. Here they enjoyed the last snatch of unrestrained family intercourse they were destined to have on earth; it was embittered from many sources, but yet it had its sweetness. Their friends also had access to them; and many of the townspeople Some of them were surprised to behold the serenity of his countenance, as he conversed with his family, and gave them various directions concerning affairs small as well as great. There seemed no end to the people to whom he charged them to give messages of kind remembrance; often with some allusion to this one's wedding, or that one's illness, which showed that his head was quite clear enough to keep in view their minute affairs. At length the hour of parting came, the last embrace was given, the last kiss taken, though not the last tear wept, by many; when he consigned his wife and children, in the companionship of Rudolf, to the appointed escort of French soldiers who were to see them safely to am Sand, and restore all the property that had been plundered. "Sandwirth! I'll never forget you!—You'll soon be among us again!" were the last words that burst from Rudolf, as he clasped his friend in his arms, and then hurried away with tears streaming down his cheeks. After the heart-breaking separation, one or two officers, with kindly feelings, would have interrupted Hofer's solitude; but he mildly requested to be left to himself. His guards said he prayed; whether he wept, they did not say. After a short interval of repose, he was sent, under a strong escort, to Mantua, and confined in a prison near the Porta Molina, already crowded by many Tyrolese. He was speedily tried by a court-martial, which sat in the Palazzo d'Arco. Its president was General Bisson, already embittered against him and his cause by his own defeat. On comparing the votes, a great difference of opinion was found as to the nature of his sentence. The majority were for simple confinement: one or two had the courage to vote for his complete acquittal; but a telegraph from Milan decided the question by decreeing death in twenty-four hours,—thus putting the mediation of Austria beyond his reach. ornament ornament
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