ervice in the great and worshipful company that he now may
meet."

"Come with us to-day, father," urged Mistress Fitzooth also. "I have
brought a veal pasty and some bread, so that we may not be hungry on the
road. Also, there is a flask of wine."

"Nay, daughter, I have no thought for the carnal things of life. I will
go with you, since the Ranger of Locksley orders it. It is my place to
obey him whom the King has put in charge of our greenwood. Bide here
whilst I make brief preparation."

His eyes had twinkled, though, when the dame had spoken; and one could
see that 'twas not on roots and fresh water alone that the clerk had
thrived. Full and round were the lines of him under his monkly gown; and
his face was red as any harvest moon.

Hugh bade farewell briefly to them, while the clerk was tying up his
hounds and chattering with them.

When the clerk was ready Fitzooth kissed his dame and bade her be firm
with their son; then, embracing Robin, ordered him to protect his mother
from all mischance. Also he was to bear himself honorably and quietly;
and, whilst being courteous to all folk, he was not to give way unduly
to anyone who should attempt to browbeat or to cozen him.

"Remember always that your father is a proud man; and see, take those
arrows of my own making and learn from them how to trim the hazel. You
have a steady hand and bold eye; be a craftsman when you return to
Locksley, and I will give you control of some part of the forest, under
me. Now, farewell--take my greetings to our brother at Gamewell."

Then the King's Forester turned on his heel and strode back towards
Locksley. Once he paused and faced about to wave his cap to them: then
his figure vanished into the green of the trees.

A sadness fell upon Robin--unaccountable and perplexing. But the hermit
soberly journeyed toward Nottingham, the two men-at-arms, with the
sumpter mule, riding in front.

The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part
where the trees nigh shut out the sky.

Robin spied out a fine old stag, and his fingers itched to fit one of
his new arrows to his bow. "These be all of them King's deer, father?"
he asked the friar, thoughtfully.

"Every beast within Sherwood, royal or mean, belongs to our King,
child."

"Do they not say that Henry is away in a foreign land, father?"

"Ay, but he will return. His deer are not yet to be slain by your
arrows, child. When you are Ranger at Locksley, in