"My bow-string has bust." ("Bust" was what all Swiss boys said when they meant "broken.")
"You must mend it yourself, my boy," said Tell. "A sportsman always helps himself."
"What I say," said Hedwig, bustling out of the house, "is that a boy of his age has no business to be shooting. I don't like it."
"Nobody can shoot well if he does not begin to practise early. Why, when I was a boy--I remember on one occasion, when--"
"What I say," interrupted Hedwig, "is that a boy ought not to want always to be shooting, and what not. He ought to stay at home and help his mother. And I wish you would set them a better example."
"Well, the fact is, you know," said Tell, "I don't think Nature meant 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."