Hofer at first took refuge with his wife and child in a narrow rocky hollow in the Kellerlager, afterward in the highest Alpine hut, near the Oetzthaler Firner in the wintry desert. Vainly was he implored to quit the country; his resolution to live or to die on his native soil was unchangeable. A peasant named Raffel, unfortunately descrying the smoke from the distant hut, discovered his place of concealment, and boasted in different places of his possession of the secret of his hiding-place. This came to the ears of Father Donay, a traitor in the pay of France;[17] Raffel was arrested, and, in the night of the 27th of January, 1810, guided one thousand six hundred French and Italian troops to the mountain, while two thousand French were quartered in the circumjacent country. Hofer yielded himself prisoner with calm dignity. The Italians abused him personally, tore out his beard, and dragged him pinioned, half naked and barefoot, in his night-dress, over ice and snow to the valley. He was then put into a carriage and carried into Italy to the fortress of Mantua. No one interceded in his behalf. Napoleon sent orders by the Paris telegraph to shoot him within four-and-twenty hours. He prepared cheerfully for death.[18] On being led past the other Tyrolese prisoners, they embraced his knees, weeping. He gave them his blessing. His executioners halted not far from the Porta Chiesa, where, placing himself opposite the twelve riflemen selected for the dreadful office, he refused either to allow himself to be blindfolded or to kneel. "I stand before my Creator," he exclaimed with a firm voice, "and standing will I restore to Him the spirit He gave!" He gave the signal to fire, but the men, it may be, too deeply moved by the scene, missed their aim. The first fire brought him on his knees, the second stretched him on the ground, and a corporal, advancing, terminated his misery by shooting him through the head, February 29, 1810.--At a later period, when Mantua again became Austrian, the Tyrolese bore his remains back to his native Alps. A handsome monument of white marble was erected to his memory in the church at Innsbruck; his family was ennobled. Count Alexander of Wurtemberg has poetically described the restoration of his remains to the Tyrol, for which he so nobly fought and died. "How was the gallant hunter's breast With mingled feelings torn, As slowly winding 'mid the Alps, His hero's corpse was borne! "The ancient Gletcher, glowing red, Though cold their wonted mien, Bright radiance shed o'er Hofer's head, Loud thundered the lavine!"