Driving a cow over the mountain paths was a difficult and dangerous undertaking, and one that Tell had never entrusted to either of his children, but as his son William seemed to be able and venturesome he was allowed one day as a great pleasure to drive Hifeli and her calf up to the mountain pasture. The way led along the side of a cliff, and in one place it was so narrow that only a few inches separated those on the path from a terrific gulf so deep that the clouds sometimes hid the trees below it.
While the boy was driving Hifeli over this place, with a sudden rush a fierce eagle swooped down to attack the calf, beating the air with its wings to drive the calf to the edge of the precipice,—and although the lad struck at the bird of prey with his mountain staff until the air was filled with feathers it was to no avail. The calf plunged over the ledge and was dashed to death on the rocks beneath, where the eagle descended and promptly reappeared flying heavily away, bearing the dead body of the calf in its claws. But this was not all the trouble that young Tell was to undergo, for the cow lurched toward the edge of the precipice and sought some way to descend to the spot where she believed the body of her calf had fallen, and try as he would young Tell could not get her away from the spot or drive her back to her stall.
So he tied Hifeli to a tree and went in search of his father to whom he told the misfortune that had befallen him. Whereupon father and son went in search of the eagle and the elder Tell slew it with an arrow from his crossbow. And on this trip he taught his son to show no fear of the high precipices they had to skirt or of the gulfs that had to be crossed by fallen trees. And from that time on he instructed his son to avoid the least sign of fear which later saved both their lives in a curious manner.
There was nothing that Tell hated more than the Austrian rule under the tyrannical governors who were sent to oppress the Swiss, and he engaged in opposing them first of all.
One of the Swiss named Wolfshot had treacherously deserted his countrymen and joined the Austrian cause, for which he was rewarded by the Emperor and given a position under the Austrian Governor. In this position he did all that he could to annoy his neighbors and frequently insulted the Swiss women.
On one occasion Wolfshot tried to make love to the wife of a Swiss peasant named Baumgarten who was an honest as well as a brave man. She ran to her husband for protection and Baumgarten in great anger went to the room where Wolfshot was staying and slew him with an ax. Then, taking horse, he fled for his life pursued by the Austrian guards.
Baumgarten came to the shores of Lake Zurich and would have crossed the lake to safety, but a terrible wind called the Fohn was blowing and the waves of the lake rolled so high that escape by water seemed impossible. The horsemen were close at Baumgarten's heels, and he begged the ferryman to take him across the water in spite of the danger, but to no avail. The ferryman replied that he would not venture out on the lake in that storm to save the life of any one, for it was impossible for any boat to live in the sea that was raging there. But William Tell was present, and seeing that Baumgarten would soon be captured by the Austrians he ran with him to the ferryboat and pushed off just as the Austrians rode up to the shore. The boat was tossed about like a cork, but still it lived under the powerful strokes of Tell, who was skilful above all others with the oar; and the Austrians were forced to go back to their castle without their prisoner, bitterly angry at Tell for having helped the fugitive to escape them.
This was soon brought to the ears of the new Governor named Gessler who determined that he would entrap Tell into committing some other act by which he could be imprisoned and put to death. To accomplish this purpose Gessler conceived the design of placing a cap with the royal arms of Austria upon it in the midst of the public square of the town of Altdorf, where Tell frequently came, and of ordering all people to bow before it as if this cap were the Emperor of Austria himself.
Great was the anger felt by the Swiss when they heard of this infamous design on Gessler's part—but how much more when the cap was actually taken to the public square by a force of heavily armed soldiers and a proclamation was read ordering all who saw it to salute it on pain of whatever penalty the Governor saw fit to impose!
Now Tell happened to be in Altdorf at this very time with his little son William; and in order to avoid saluting this hated emblem, he left town earlier than he had planned and by a street where he thought he would not see the cap or encounter any of the Austrians who had come to Altdorf to see that the Governor's order was enforced. As luck would have it, however, Tell walked right into the square where the cap had been placed and came right upon it before he noticed it. And several Austrian men at arms stood near it.