me are always
knocking their heads against something."

"But how am I to know when I'm six feet high?" said Robin.

"Oh! I'll tell you, I'll keep measuring you, my lad."

"And how am I to stop growing?"

Little John took off his cap and scratched his head, as he wrinkled
up his big, good-humored face.

"Well, I don't quite know," he said; "but there's plenty o' time
yet, and we shall see. Might put a big stone in your hat; or keep
you in a very dry place; or tie your shoulders down to your
waist--no, that wouldn't do."

"Why?" said Robin promptly.

"Because it wouldn't stop your legs growing, and it's boys' legs
that grow the most when they're young. I say, though, what's
become of all those arrows I made you?"

"Shot them away."

"And only two left. You mustn't waste arrows like that. Why
didn't you look for them after you shot?"

"I did," cried Robin, "but they will hide themselves so. They
creep right under the grass and among the weeds so that you can't
find them again. But you'll make me some more, won't you?"

"Well," said Little John, "I suppose I must; but you will have to
be more careful, young un. I can't spend all my time making new
arrows for you. But there, I want you to shoot so that the captain
will be proud of you, and some day you'll have to shoot a deer."

"I don't think I should like to shoot a deer," said the boy,
shaking his head.

"Why not?" They're good to eat."

"They look so nice and kind, with their big soft eyes."

"Well, a man then."

"Oh, no! I shouldn't like to shoot a man."

"What not one of the captain's enemies who had come to kill him?"

"I don't think I should mind so much then. Look here, Little John,
I'd shoot an arrow into his back, to prick him and make him run
away."

"And so you shall, my lad," cried Little John, and he set to work
directly to cut some wood for arrows to refill the boy's quiver;
and when those were lost, he made some more, for young Robin was
always shooting and losing them; but Little John said it did not
matter, for he was going to be a famous marksman, and the big
fellow looked as proud of his pupil as could be.

But Little John did not stop at teaching young Robin to shoot, for
one day the boy found him smoothing and scraping a nice new piece
of ash as thick as his little finger, which was not little at all.

"You don't know what this is for," said the big fellow.

"It looks like a little quarter-staff," said young Rob