“And what is it about the terrible animal and my grandfather who was called Knight Schrutan?” said Arnold.
“Listen,” said his mother, as she began to tell him the story once more. “You know the little village of Odwylen, between Stans and the Kernwald. In the mountains near it there is a vast cavern which is said to have been occupied by heathens in the ancient days. Perhaps they were the old Romans who took refuge there because they had committed crimes and been banished from their own country. About a century ago a huge dragon had its lair in this cavern. It killed both men and beasts. The people of the little village, which is called Wylen to this day, had to flee, and as it was forsaken and desolate it took the name of Odwylen.[2] Along the roads which lead across the moors and meadows between Stans and Sarnen to the little village, not a person could be seen, nor were any animals pastured there, for the dragon concealed itself in the swamps and attacked every living thing. To be safe from the monster they laid out new roads, traces of which are visible even to-day. The people of Unterwalden sometimes undertook to attack the dragon, but it was always on the alert, and as soon as it discovered its enemies it retreated to the mountain cavern or some other place where it could defy pursuit. It was so agile that it could run up the steepest mountain-side as swiftly as a lizard and as easily as if it were on level ground. Knight Schrutan heard about this dragon. He was no longer in his own country, for in his wrath he had slain an Unterwaldener who had wronged him, and he had been banished for it. He requested permission to attack the dragon, asking no other compensation than the remission of his penalty of exile. Being a valiant knight, the Unterwaldeners granted his petition and allowed him to return home. The knight made a long spear with a sharp spike for its tip, and at once sought the dragon, which he was not long in finding. When the monster saw that it had to deal with but one man, it rushed upon him with open jaws. Knight Schrutan hurled the spear with all his strength into its throat, where the spike held it securely. Then he drew his sword and smote the dragon until, bleeding from numerous wounds, it died in terrible convulsions.”
Arnold scarcely breathed during the story, so spellbound was he. At last a deep sigh escaped him. He slid down from his mother’s lap and stood before her with his arms crossed, impatiently awaiting her next words, for he knew the story was not yet finished. He was sure there was something else, but could not remember what it was. His mother continued:
“When the knight saw that his task was complete and successful he raised both arms and praised God for His personal assistance. But, alas! he kept his sword in his hand and the poisonous blood of the dragon dripped upon the unprotected parts of his body. A few days afterwards the valiant hero died, mourned by all the people of that region, whom he had rescued from the ravages of the cruel monster.”
Arnold stood lost in thought as his mother brought the story to an end. Had his brave ancestor gone forth to battle, and had he returned victorious, and been overwhelmed with gold and honors by the grateful Unterwaldeners it would not have been half so inspiring to the lad as this tragic fate of the hero who paid for his brave deed with his life. Young as he was, he too longed to achieve something great and bequeath to others a legacy of glorious memories. The spark of self-sacrifice was kindled at that instant in the boy’s breast, not to be extinguished except with his last breath.
“Little mother,” cried Arnold, with glowing cheeks, “I will be such a knight!”
His mother smiled, but made no reply. She knew the Winkelrieds’ love of freedom. She knew, also, how different it was from the conceptions of freedom in the days of chivalry, and she was sure that Arnold’s was the true Winkelried love. She had long been aware of the boy’s heroic spirit, but she had never thought of him as an armed warrior in the field.
That night Arnold dreamed of nothing but Pilatus, the Knight Schrutan, and the dragon, and they were mingled together in the strangest manner. He dreamed he was on Lake Pilatus and saw the knight engaged in a desperate struggle with the dragon. Nearer and more near the hero forced the monster to the water’s edge, and with one last desperate effort he drove it into the gloomy lake, which rose high above the sinking reptile. The sky was instantly overspread with black clouds. The region was enveloped in darkness, and, accompanied by deafening crashes of thunder, Pilate rose from the lake in his red robes, holding in his hand a spear set with sharp spikes, and making menacing gestures at the knight. Schrutan plunged into the lake without hesitation, and notwithstanding his heavy armor, breasted the waves with strong arms, prepared to struggle with the evil spirit. Before he could reach him, however, the water changed to dragon’s blood in which the knight was overwhelmed.
On the next day, Florian Häbli, Arnold’s friend and playmate, came to see him. Notwithstanding Florian’s father was poor and had to earn a living for his large family by fishing and felling trees, Arnold preferred him to all the other boys, and admired his courage, though Florian sometimes was bolder in words than in action. The two boys at first indulged in a vigorous snowball fight. Then they made a snow man, and when it was finished Arnold placed a hat upon its head. As this reminded him of the cloud caps which at times covered the summit of Pilatus, he called the snow man the wicked Pontius Pilate, and bade Florian help him to destroy Pilate. Both lads began a fierce bombardment of the snow man, and kept it up until it was reduced to a shapeless mass. Then Arnold told Florian about Schrutan and his adventure; and he said he would like to encounter a dragon, but unfortunately there were no more of them in that neighborhood.
“Do you really mean to say that you, such a little fellow, would really fight a dragon?” rather contemptuously replied Florian, who was half a head taller than Arnold. “Why, it would bury you in the cavity of one of its teeth.”