Innsbruck was next the scene of a wild fight, where, with tremendous bravery, the natives repulsed the foe, though many of them had no better weapons than axes and pitchforks and other implements of agriculture. But without arms, money, or support, it was impossible to keep up such an unequal contest, the Tyrolese were inevitably beaten at Worgl, and afterwards the Bavarians occupied Innsbruck. The persistence and tenacity of the mountaineers were never shown to better advantage, for even while the enemy occupied their capital with a force it would have been foolhardy to attack, they posted themselves all round on the heights, and with eye and finger skilled by the chase of the native chamois, picked off every enemy who ventured within range of their unerring rifles. Fortune once more favoured the weaker side, and at Berg-Isel in May, and again in the autumn, the mountaineers defeated the Bavarians with great loss. After this Hofer became the head of the government of his native land. He took up his quarters at the imperial castle in Innsbruck, and on October 4 a great festival was held in his honour, when he was formally invested with a medal at the foot of the tomb of the Emperor Maximilian. The Austrians, who by this time were once more at war with France, supported the Tyrol. The Bavarians only waited to gather up fresh forces before again hurling themselves on their foe, insignificant in numbers but formidable in courage. The Tyrolese were driven in from the frontiers, and had the worst of it whenever they met the tide of advancing soldiers. In the midst of these calamities they heard that peace had been finally concluded between France and Austria, and that their own monarch had handed them over definitely to the Bavarians. After this hundreds of the peasants threw down their arms and submitted, and Eugène Beauharnais, Buonaparte’s stepson, was sent to take command. Hofer did not give in but made a despairing attempt to renew his defence, though he was forced to evacuate Innsbruck. He retired to the mountains and a price was set on his head. It was now the end of November, and snow lay thick in the passes; in his solitary hut far up on the mountain-side he was dependent for supplies on his friends, and one of them, a treacherous priest named Douay, gave away his whereabouts to the enemy, who marched upon him with a large force, and with every precaution. They took him and his wife, as well as his son--who was only twelve--and his daughter, prisoners to Botzen, and carried them afterwards on to Mantua, where Hofer was accorded the farce of a trial by court-martial, and was by Buonaparte’s orders executed twenty-four hours after.