He seized it in an instant, and was about to bound away among the trees, but his enemy had recovered himself, and staff in hand, came after him at so terrible a rate that Robin only avoided a swishing blow at his legs by dodging round a tree, which received the stroke.
The next moment Robin faced round in the open beyond the tree, and stood on guard as he had been taught.
"Ah, would yer?" snarled the young swineherd; "take that then."
Whisk went the staff and then crack as it was received by Robin across his own, and then, profiting by Little John's lessons, he brought his own over from the left and delivered a sounding blow on his assailant's head.
The swineherd uttered a savage yell as he staggered back, but came fiercely on again, striking with all his might, but so wildly that Robin easily avoided the blow, and brought his own staff down whack, crash, on his enemy's shoulders, producing a couple more yells of pain. From that moment Robin had it all his own way, for he easily guarded himself from the swineherd's fierce strokes and retorted with swinging blows on first one arm, then on the other. Then he brought his staff down with a blow beside his enemy's left leg, then half behind the right, making him dance and limp as he yelled and sought in vain to beat down his active little adversary, who delivered a shower of cleverly directed blows in response to the wild swoops given with the worst of aim.
In the heat and excitement Robin had felt no fear. He was on his mettle, and fighting for liberty, to gain which he felt that he must effectually beat his enemy; and thanks to Little John's lessons he thrashed him so well that at the end of five minutes the young swine-herd received a final stroke across the knuckles which made him shriek, drop his staff, and turn to run down a long straight avenue in the forest where the ground was open.
Robin in his excitement began to run after him to continue the beating, but the swineherd went too fast, and on the impulse of the moment the victor stopped short, dropping his own staff and unslinging his bow from where it hung. In less time than it takes to tell the bow was strung and an arrow fitted, drawn to the head, and with a twang it was loosed after the flying lad, now a hundred yards away; but as soon as it was shot Robin repented.
"It'll kill him," he thought, and his heart seemed to stand still.
For the boy's teacher had taught well, and here was the proof. Truly as if a long careful aim had been taken the arrow sped many times faster than the swineherd ran, and Robin's eyes dilated as he saw his adversary give a sudden spring and fall upon his face, uttering a hideous yell.
Robin, full of repentance, started off to his enemy's help, but before he had gone many yards the swineherd sprang up and began to run faster than ever, while when Robin reached the spot there lay his arrow, but the lad was gone.
"Only pricked him a bit," said Little John, when he heard of the adventure. "Serve the young wretch right. But the quarter-staff. My word, big un, I'd have given something to have been there to hear his bones rattle. Well, I didn't teach you for naught. But look here, if you meet that fellow in the forest again don't you wait for him to begin; you go at him at once."
Robin nodded his head, but he never saw the swineherd again.
Young Robin's father, the Sheriff, suffered very sadly from the loss of his son and his goods, and Robin's aunt came to Nottingham and wept bitterly over the loss of the little boy she loved dearly. For David, the old servant in whose charge Robin had been placed when he was going home, had done what too many weak people do, tried to hide one fault by committing another.
Robin was given into his charge to protect and take safely home to his father, and when the attack was made by the outlaw's men, instead of doing anything to protect the little fellow and save him from being injured by Robin Hood's people, he thought only of himself. He threw his charge into the first bushes he came to, and galloped away, hardly stopping till he reached Nottingham town.
There the first question the Sheriff asked was, not what had become of the pack mules and the consignment of cloth, but where was Robin, and the false servant said that he had fought hard to save him in the fight, but fought in vain, and that the poor boy was dead.
And then months passed and a year had gone by, and people looked solemn and said that it seemed as if the Sheriff would never hold up his head again. But they thought that he should have gathered together a number of fighting men and gone and punished Robin Hood and his outlaws for carrying off that valuable set of loads of cloth.
But Robin's father cared nothing for the cloth or the mules; he could only think of the bright happy little fellow whom he loved so well, and whom he wept for in secret at night when there was no one near to see.
Robin's aunt when she came and tried to comfort him used to shake her head and wipe her eyes. She said little, only thought a great deal, and she came over again and again to try and comfort her dead sister's husband; but it made no difference, for the Sheriff was a sadly altered man.
Then all at once there was a change, and it was at a time whenRobin's aunt was over to Nottingham.
For one day a man came to the Sheriff's house and wanted him. But the Sheriff would not see him, for he took no interest in anything now, and told his servant that the man must send word what his business was.
The servant went out, and came back directly.
"He says, sir, that he was taken prisoner by Robin Hood's men a week ago, and that he has just come from the camp under the greenwood tree, and has brought you news, master."
The Sheriff started up, trembling, and told his servant to bring the strange man in.
It was no beaten and wounded ruffian, but a hale and hearty fellow, who looked bright and happy, and before he could speak and tell his news the Sheriff began to question him.
"You have come from the outlaws' camp?" he said with his voice trembling.
"Yes, Master Sheriff."
"They took you prisoner, and beat and robbed you?"
"Oh! no, Master Sheriff; they took me before Robin Hood, and he asked me what I was doing there, and whether I was not afraid to cross his forest, and I up and told him plainly that I wasn't. Then he said how was that when I must have heard what a terrible robber he was."
"Yes, yes," cried the Sheriff, "and what did you say."
"I said that I had lived about these parts all my life and I never heard that he did a poor man any harm. Then he laughed, and all his people laughed too, and he said I was a merry fellow. 'Give him plenty to eat and drink,' he said, 'for two or three days, and then send him on his way.' Yes, Master Sheriff, that he did, and a fine jolly time I had. Why, I almost felt as if I should like to stay altogether."
And all this time the Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and suddenly he caught him by the arm.
[Illustration: The Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and suddenly caught him by the arm.]
"Speak out," he said; "you did not come to tell me only that. What is it you are keeping back? Why don't you speak?"
"Because, master," said the man softly, "I was afraid you couldn't bear it, for I was a father once and my son died, and though you never knew me, I knew you, and was sorry when the news came that your little boy was killed. Can you bear to hear good news as well as bad?"
The Sheriff was silent for a few minutes, during which he closed his eyes and his lips moved, and he looked so strange that Robin's aunt crossed the room to where he sat, and took hold of his hand, as she whispered loving words.
"Yes, yes," he said softly, "I can bear it now. Speak, pray speak, and tell me all."
"But you will not be angry with me if I am wrong, Master Sheriff?"
"No, no," said Robin's father; "speak out at once."
"Well, Master Sheriff, no one would tell me when I asked questions, but there's a little fellow there, dressed all in Lincoln green, like one of Robin Hood's fighting men, with his sword and bugle, and bow and arrows, and somehow I began to think, and then I began to ask, whether he was Robin Hood's son; but those I asked only shook their heads.
"That made me think all the more, and one day I managed to follow him but among the trees to where I found him feeding one of the wild deer, which followed him about like a dog."
"I waited a bit, and then stepped out to him, and what do you think he did? He strung his bow, fitted an arrow to it before I knew where I was, and drew it to the head as if he was going to shoot me. 'Do you know where Nottingham is?' I said, and he lowered his bow. 'Yes,' he said, 'of course. Do you know my father?' 'Do I know the Sheriff?' I said; 'of course.' 'Are you going there soon?' he cried, and I nodded. 'Then you go to my father,' he cried, 'and tell him to tell aunt that I'm quite well, and that some day I'm coming home."
The man stopped, for just then the Sheriff closed his eyes again and said something very softly, which Robin's aunt heard, and she sank upon her knees and covered her face with her hands.
Then the Sheriff sprang to his feet, looking quite a different man.
"Here," he said to the bringer of the news, and he gave him some gold pieces. "Could you find your way back to the outlaws' camp in the forest?"
"Oh! yes, Master Sheriff, that I could, though they did bind a cloth over my face when they brought me away."
"And you could lead me and a strong body of fighting men right to the outlaws' camp?"
"I could, Master Sheriff," said the man, beginning slowly to lay the gold pieces back one by one upon the table; "but I can't do evil for good."
"What?" cried the Sheriff angrily. "They are robbers and outlaws, and every subject of the King has a right to slay them."
"May be, Master Sheriff," said the man drily; "but I'm not going to fly at the throat of one who did nothing but good to me. They tell me that Robin Hood's a noble earl who offended the King, and had to fly for his life. What I say is, he's a noble kind-hearted gentleman, and if it was my boy he had there, looking as happy as the day is long, I'd go to him without any fighting men."
"How, then?" cried the Sheriff.
"Just like a father should, master, and ask him for my boy like a man."
"That will do," said the Sheriff. "You can go."
The man turned to leave the room, when the Sheriff said sharply:
"Stop! You are leaving the gold pieces I gave you."
"Yes, I can't take pay to lead anyone to fight against Robin Hood and his men."
"Those pieces were for the news you brought me," said the Sheriff."Yes, take them, for you have behaved like an honest man."
But the Sheriff did not take the man's advice, neither did he listen to the appeal of young Robin's aunt. For, as Sheriff of Nottingham, he said to himself that it was his duty to destroy or scatter the band of outlaws who had lived in Sherwood Forest for so long a time.
So he gathered a strong body of crossbow-men, and others with spears and swords, besides asking for the help of two gallant knights who came with their esquires mounted and in armour with their men.
Somehow Robin Hood knew what was being prepared, and about a week after, when the Sheriff and his great following of about three hundred men were struggling to make their way through the forest, they heard the sound of a horn, and all at once the thick woodland seemed to be alive with archers, who used their bows in such a way that first one, then a dozen, then by fifties, the Sheriff's men began to flee, and in less than an hour they were all crawling back to Nottingham, badly beaten, not a man among them being ready to turn and fight.
In another month the Sheriff advanced again with a stronger force, but they were driven back more easily than the first, and the Sheriff was in despair.
But a couple of days later he had the man to whom he had given the gold pieces found, and sent him to the outlaws' camp with a letter written upon parchment, in which he ordered Robin Hood, in the King's name, to give up the little prisoner he held there contrary to the law and against his own will.
It was many weary anxious days before the messenger came back, but without the little prisoner.
"What did he say?" asked the Sheriff.
"He said, master, that if you wanted the boy you must go and fetch him."
It was the very next day that the Sheriff went into the room where young Robin's aunt was seated, looking very unhappy, and she jumped up from her chair wonderingly on seeing that her brother-in-law was dressed as if for a journey, wearing no sword or dagger, only carrying a long stout walking staff.
"Where are you going, dear?" she said.
"Where I ought to have gone at first," he said humbly; "into the forest to fetch my boy."
"But you could never find your way," she said, sobbing. "Besides, you are the Sheriff, and these men will seize and kill you."
"I have someone to show me the way," said the Sheriff gently; "and somehow, though I have persecuted and fought against the people sorely, I feel no fear, for Robin Hood is not the man to slay a broken-hearted father who comes in search of his long-lost boy."
The sun was low down in the west, and shining through and under the great oak and beech trees, so that everything seemed to be turned to orange and gold.
It was the outlaws' supper time, the sun being their clock in the forest; and the men were gathering together to enjoy their second great meal of the day, the other being breakfast, after having which they always separated to go hunting through the woods to bring in the provisions for the next day.
Robin Hood's men, then, were scattered about under the shade of a huge spreading oak tree, waiting for the roast venison, which sent a very pleasant odor from the glowing fire of oak wood, and young Robin was seated on the mossy grass close by the thatched shed which formed the captain's headquarters, where Maid Marian was busy spreading the supper for the little party who ate with Robin Hood himself.
Little John was there, lying down, smiling and contented after a hard day's hunting, listening to young Robin, who was displaying the treasures he had brought in that day, and telling his great companion where he had found them.
There were flowers for Maid Marian, because she was fond of the purple and yellow loosestrife, and long thick reeds in a bundle.
"You can make me some arrows of those," said Robin; "and I've found a young yew tree with a bough quite straight. You must cut that down and dry it to make me a bigger bow. This one is not strong enough."
"Very well, big one," said Little John, smiling and stretching out his hand to smooth the boy's curly brown hair. "Anything else for me to do?"
"Oh yes, lots of things, only I can't think of them yet. Look here, I found these."
The boy took some round prickly husks out of his pocket.
"Chestnuts—eating ones."
"Yes, I know where you got them," said Little-John, "but they're no good. Look."
He tore one of the husks open, and laid bare the rich brown nut; but it was, as he said, good for nothing, there being no hard sweet kernel within, nothing but soft pithy woolly stuff.
"No good at all," continued the great forester; "but I'll show you a tree which bears good ones, only the nuts are better if they're left till they drop out of their husks."
"And then the pigs get them," said Robin.
"Then you must get up before the pigs, and be first. Halloa! What now?"
For a horn was blown at a distance, and the men under the great oak tree sprang to their feet, while Robin Hood came out to see what the signal meant.
Young Robin, who was now quite accustomed to the foresters' ways, caught up his bow like the rest, and stood looking eagerly in the direction from which the cheery sounding notes of the horn were blown.
He had not long to wait, for half a dozen of the merry men in green came marching towards them with a couple of prisoners, each having his hands fastened behind him with a bow-string and a broad bandage tied over his eyes, so that they should not know their way again to the outlaws' stronghold.
"Prisoners!" said young Robin.
"Poor men, too," grumbled Little John.
"Then you'll give them their supper and send them away to-morrow morning," said young Robin.
"I suppose so," said Little John, "but I don't know what made our fellows bring them in."
"Let's go and see," said young Robin.
Little John followed as the boy marched off, bow in hand, to where Robin Hood was standing, waiting to hear what his men had to say about the prisoners they had brought in. And as they drew near the boy saw that one was, a homely poor-looking man with round shoulders, the other, well dressed in sad-colored clothes, and thin and bent. But the boy could see little more for the broad bandage, which nearly covered the prisoner's face and was tied tightly behind over his long, gray hair, while his gray beard hung down low.
Young Robin looked pityingly at this prisoner, and a longing came over him to loosen the thong which tied his hands tightly behind him, and take off the bandage so that he could breathe freely, but just then Robin Hood cried:
"Well, my lads, whom have we here?"
The bowed down gray-haired prisoner rose erect at this, and cried:
"Is that Robin Hood who speaks?"
Before the outlaw could answer; he was stopped by a cry: from the boy, who threw down his bow and darted to the prisoner's side.
"Father!" he cried; and he leaped up, as active now as one of the deer of the forest, to fling his arms about the prisoner's neck.
But only for a moment.
The next he had dropped to the ground, to look fiercely round at the astonished men, as he drew the dagger which hung from his belt.
[Illustration: Robin looked fiercely round at the astonished men, as he drew the dagger which hung from his belt.]
"Who dared do this?" he cried, as he reached up to tear the bandage from the face bending over him, and then darted round to begin sawing at the thong which held his father's hands.
Little John took a step or two forward to help the boy, but Robin Hood held up his hand to keep him back, and a dead silence fell upon the great group of foresters who had pressed forward, and who eagerly watched the scene before them in the soft, amber sunshine which came slanting through the trees. The task was hard, but the little fellow worked well, and many moments had not elapsed before the prisoner's hands were free, and as if seeing no one but the little forester before him in green, and quite regardless of all around, he dropped upon his knees, clasped the boy to his breast, and softly whispered the words:
"Thank God!"
Young Robin's arms were tightly round his father's neck by this time, and he was kissing the care-worn face again and again.
"They didn't know who you were, father; they didn't know who you were," cried the boy passionately, as if asking his father's pardon for the outrage committed upon him.
"No, Rob," said the Sheriff, in a choking voice; "they did not know who I was. But you know your poor old father again."
"Know you again!" cried the boy, hanging back, and looking at his father wonderingly. "Why, yes; but what a long time you have been before you came to fetch me."
"Yes, yes, my boy; a long, long year of misery and sorrow; but I have found you now, at last."
"Oh! I am glad," cried the boy, struggling free, and catching his father's hand to lead him towards where Robin Hood and Marian were standing, wet-eyed, looking on.
"This is my father," cried the boy proudly. "This is Robin Hood, the captain, father," he continued, and the Sheriff bowed gravely; "and this is Maid Marian, who has been so good to me."
The Sheriff bowed slowly 'and gravely, as if to the greatest lady in the land, and then the boy dragged at his father's hand.
"And this is old Little John, father," he cried. "I say, isn't he big!"
The Sheriff bowed again, and the great outlaw's face wore such a comic expression of puzzlement that Robin Hood laughed aloud, and completed his great follower's confusion.
"He has been so good to me, father," cried young Robin. "I can shoot with bow and arrow now, and sound my horn. Hark!"
The boy clapped his horn to his lips and blew a few cheery notes which ran echoing down the forest glades, and the men assembled gave a hearty cheer.
"You're welcome to the woodlands, Master Sheriff," said Robin Hood, advancing now with extended hand. "Do not take this as the outlaw's hand, nor extend yours as the Sheriff; but let it be the grasp of two Englishmen, one of whom receives a guest."
"I thank you, sir," said the Sheriff slowly. "I can give you nothing but thanks, for after a year of sorrow I find my child is after all alive and well."
"And I hope not worse than when accident brought him into our hands. What do you say? Do you find him changed?"
"Bigger and stronger," said the Sheriff, drawing the boy closer to him, while the little fellow clung to his hand.
"Our woodland life; and I warrant you, Master Sheriff, that he is none the worse, for he is the truest, most gracious little fellow I ever met. Here, Little Namesake, speak out, and let your father know you have been a good boy ever since you came here to stay."
Young Robin was silent, and looked from one to the other in a curiously abashed fashion.
"Well, boy, why don't you speak?" cried Robin Hood merrily. "I want Master Sheriff to hear that we have not spoiled you. Come, tell him. You have always been a good boy, haven't you?"
Young Robin hung his head.
"No," he said slowly, with his brow wrinkled up, his head hanging and one foot scraping softly at the mossy grass. "No, not always."
Little John burst into a tremendous roar of laughter, and began to stamp about, with the result that young Robin made a dash at him and tried vainly to climb up and clap his hand over the great fellow's lips.
"Don't—don't tell," cried the boy.
"Ran at me—only yesterday," cried Little John—"and began to thrash me in a passion."
"Don't tell tales out of school, Little John," cried Robin Hood, laughing. "There, Rob, you must forgive him; we're none of-us-perfect. Master Sheriff, and if your little fellow had been quite so, I don't think that we should all, to a man here, have loved him half so well. But come, after his confession, I think you will grant one thing, and that is, that in spite of his having spent a year in the outlaws' camp, he is as honest as the day."
"Nothing could make my boy Robin tell a lie," said the Sheriff proudly. "But, sir, I have come humbly to you now. Glad even to be your prisoner, so that I might once more see my child."
"My prisoner if you had come amongst us with your posse of armed men, sir," said Robin Hood proudly. "As it is, Master Sheriff, you come here alone with your guide, and I bid you welcome to our greenwood home. Fate made me what I am, the Sheriff's enemy, but the gentle visitor's friend. Come, Rob, my boy, show your father where he can take away the travel stains, and then bring him to our humble board."
It was the next day that was to be young Robin's last with the outlaws in the merry greenwood, and all were gathered together to bid him farewell, and see him safely with his father on the road; but not as the Sheriff had come, wearily and on foot, for half a dozen of the best mules were forthcoming, and the guests were to ride back on their journey home.
Who does not know how hard it is to say good-bye? Young Robin did not till the time had come.
He awoke that morning joyful and eager to start, for it was to go back home in company with the father whom he loved; but when the time came he had to learn how tightly so many of his little heartstrings had taken hold of the life under the greenwood tree. Everything about him had grown dear, and there was almost a mule load of treasures and pets of his own collecting that could not be left behind.
And when they had been carefully packed in panniers by Little John and one of the men, there was the task of bidding them all good-bye, and then those two words grew harder every time.
But he spoke out manfully and well, in spite of a choking sensation, till nearly the last.
"For I'm coming back again," he said, "and you'll take care of my pet fawn for me, Little John, and always remember to feed it well. And don't forget the dog and that dormouse we couldn't find, so that I can have it when I come back, and—"
Croak!
What was that?
It was a peculiar sound made up in the air by Little John, and that did it, for when young Robin looked up in astonishment, it was to see the great fellow's face all puckered up, and—yes, there were two great tears rolling down his cheeks as he caught the boy in his arms and kissed him.
And so it was that when young Robin ran to bid Maid Marian good-bye, he could no longer hold it back. As he clasped his arms about her neck, and kissed her passionately again and again, the sobs came fast, but the wordGood-byewould not come at all, and when they rode away, the boy dared not look back for fear the men should see his red and swollen eyes. So he only waved his hat, and kept waving it to the last.
But he was to see some of his friends again, for about a year after the Sheriff of Nottingham had the strangest visitors of his life-time at his house, and young Robin enjoyed the task of welcoming them, for as one old history says, Robin Hood was forgiven and restored by the King to his rightful possessions, and then it was that he was gladly welcomed by the Sheriff, who said he was honored by the visit of the nobleman and his lady.
But it was nothing to young Robin then that his old friend was an earl, and his lady a countess; they were still Robin Hood and Maid Marian to him, and big Little John, their follower, his old friend and companion, full of memories of his year's happy life in the Merry Greenwood.