his might, brought his friend safe across after a choppy passage. Which made Gessler the Governor still more angry with him.
But it was as a marksman that Tell was so extraordinary. There was nobody in the whole of the land who was half so skilful. He attended every meeting for miles around where there was a shooting competition, and every time he won first prize. Even his rivals could not help praising his skill. “Behold!” they would say, “Tell is quite the pot-hunter,” meaning by the last word a man who always went in for every prize, and always won it. And Tell would say, “Yes, truly am I a pot-hunter, for I hunt to fill the family pot.” And so he did. He never came home empty-handed from the chase. Sometimes it was a chamois that he brought back, and then the family had it roasted on the first day, cold on the next four, and minced on the sixth, with sippets of toast round the edge
