The Mass ended, the priest addressed a few words on the eventful position of the Vaterland--at first, in terms of vague, uncertain meaning; but growing warmer as he proceeded, more clearly and more earnestly, he told them that the "Wolves"--none needed to be told that Frenchmen were meant--that the "Wolves" were about to ravage the flocks and overrun the villages, as they had already done twice before; that the Bavarians, who should be their friends, were about to join their bitterest enemies; that although the "Gute Franzerl"--for so familiarly did they ever name the Emperor--wished them well, he could help them but little. "The Tyroler's hand alone must save Tyrol," he exclaimed. "If that cannot be, then God pity us; for there is no mercy to be looked for from our enemies!"
If many a bold and patriotic heart sorrowed over these things, not one felt them with a more intense sense of anguish than little Hans Jörgle. The French, who had crushed his country, had killed his father; and now they were coming to bring fire and sword among those lonely glens, where his widowed mother had hoped to live her last years peacefully. Oh! if he had been a man to stand beside his father in the day of battle, or if even now he could hope to see the time when he should be strong of limb as he was of heart... a burst of tears was the ever-present interruption to utterings which, in the eagerness of his devotion, he could not resist from making aloud.
These thoughts now took entire possession of his mind. If the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard unusually loud over the wooden bridge in the valley, Hans would start up and cry, "Here they are!--the cavalry picquets are upon us!" If a Bauer-house in the plain caught fire, it was the French were approaching and burning the villages. The rumbling of heavily-laden sledges over the hard snow was surely "the drums of the advanced guard;" and never could the ring of jäger's rifle be heard, that he did not exclaim, "Here come the skirmishers!" If the worthy villagers were indifferent to these various false alarms, the epithets and terms of war employed by Hans realised no small portions of its terror; and while they could afford to smile at his foolish fears, they exchanged very grave looks when he spoke of cavalry squadrons, and looked far from happy at the picture of a brigade of artillery in position on the bridge, while the tirailleurs ascended the face of the mountain in scattered parties.