"Long live our good king!" shouted the people. "Now our wrongs shall be righted."
And so it was. Whenever anyone was wronged, he rang the bell in the tower. The judge put on his rich robes and went there. He listened to the complaint, and the guilty were punished.
The people in Atri were now very happy, and the days went swiftly by. The bell hung in its place year after year, and it was rung many times. By and by the rope became so worn that one could scarcely reach it.
The king said, "Why, a child could not reach the rope now, and a wrong might not be righted. I must put in a new one."
So he ordered a rope from a distant town. In those days it took a long time to travel from one town to another. What should they do if somebody wished to ring the bell before the new rope came?
"We must mend the rope in some way," said a man.
"Here," said another; "take this piece of grapevine and fasten it to the rope. Then it will be long enough for any one to reach."
This was done, and for some time the bell was rung in that way.