"God forbid! I must first attend to my horses," exclaimed Andreas. "I suppose, Niederkircher, you saw my four splendid white horses? They are honest war-spoils; I will keep them forever and never sell them, although I could get a round sum for them, for they are fine animals; only the first horse on the right-hand side, I believe, is a little weak in the chest, and ought not to be overworked. Before going to dinner and making myself comfortable, I must go and feed the horses and see if they are comfortable. You know, Niederkircher, I have always fed my horses myself, and will do so to-day also." And he hastened toward the door; but Niederkircher ran after him and kept him back. "For God's sake. Hofer," he cried in dismay, "what are you going to do? Why, you are not a horse-trader nor the Sandwirth to-day, but commander-in-chief of the Tyrol." "It is true, I forgot it," sighed Andreas. "Go, then, dear friend, get us our dinner, and have a large bundle of hay put into the manger of the horses.--But, great God! what dreadful noise is that in the street? Why, those men are shouting so loudly that the walls are shaking and the windows rattling! What do they want? Why do they always repeat my name? Look out, Niederkircher, and see what is the matter." Niederkircher hastened to the window and drew the curtain aside in order to look out into the street. A dense crowd was assembled in front of the tavern; it was incessantly cheering and shouting: "Andreas Hofer! Come out! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, the liberator! We want to see him, we must thank him for delivering us from the enemy. Andreas Hofer! Andreas Hofer!" "You cannot get around it, Andy; you must step out on the balcony," said Niederkircher, stepping back from the window. "The people are perfectly beside themselves with love and enthusiasm, and will not keep quiet until you come out and make a speech to them. Do, my friend, step out on the balcony!" "Must I do it?" asked Andreas, dolefully, turning to the Capuchin, who was stretching himself comfortably on the carpet. "You must, brother," said Haspinger, gravely. "The people wish to see their beloved leader, and it would be ungrateful not to accept their love." Andreas Hofer sighed, but he yielded and approached the balcony, the doors of which were thrown open by the innkeeper. No sooner had the thousands assembled in front of the house beheld the tall form of their favorite leader, than thundering cheers rent the air; all waved their hats and shouted, "Long live Andreas Hofer! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!"