Tyrol (Austria) -- History -- Uprising of 1809 -- Fiction
"Oh, he won't hurt you. You got here first; and if he looks in and sees
you, he'll go away. Shall you be frightened?"
"That depends. If he wears a green jacket and red sash, and carries a
rifle over his shoulder, very likely I shall be."
"Not if he does not point it at _you_. Besides, it wouldn't go off."
"I shan't understand his language."
"Why, you understand _mine_. But he doesn't talk at all, only makes a
dismal noise, and keeps smiting his hands. I advise you to say your
prayers, and then you won't think of him any more."
Away went Anderl, with a very unfavourable impression of Bavarian
courage. Meanwhile, the wounded soldier felt very lonely without his
little companion; and weak from the loss of blood. A good deal of what
courage he had, had certainly ebbed away with it; for he was presently
sadly scared by a sudden, rushing, unaccountable sound of many small
feet, which he thought must be those of a legion of hill-sprites rather
than of one.
It only proceeded, however, from the flock of sheep, who, having
remained under the hill while the spring storm lasted, were now
returning to the sweet short grass higher up.
A couple of days afterwards, Anderl, who had often thought of the
Bavarian, made up a little packet of cakes and cheese, and set off on a
walk of several miles to see after him.
"The gate was there, but not the lad!"
Anderl looked about, but could find nothing of him. The food was eaten,
and he was gone.
It was best for all parties that he should have made off. After a
night's good sleep, he had awoke sufficiently refreshed to make a
hearty breakfast of what would have fed a temperate Tyrolese for two
or three days; and then, examining his wound, he found himself able to
bind it up sufficiently well to admit of his moving slowly, with a good
deal of limping.
He was very desirous of going down the ravine, to hunt for his musket,
but hardly felt equal to it; and the sound of men's voices among the
trees decided him on keeping on his present level, and making off as
fast as he could.
Fear enabled him to do this better than he would otherwise have thought
possible; and he made considerable progress along the mountain-side,
till he began to be uncertain of his bearings, and to fear that he
might be penetrating into the enemy's country instead of getting out
of it. Besides, he was by this time very tired and very hungry; and it
was therefore with considerable though not unmixed satisfaction that
he descried a lone hut. Though lonely, it might not be unoccupied;
therefore, he approached it with extreme caution.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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