t's mind was poisoned against Robin; with the
result that we have seen. The Squire began now to believe Ford's tale
that young Fitzooth was of the outlaw band, and at once withdrew all
support of Robin so far as the Rangership of Locksley was concerned.
"No doubt," thought the Squire, bitterly, "he is son of his father in
discontent and false pride. Fitzooth never was frank with me, and has
trained his son to distrust and deceive all men."

Truly the Sheriff's daughter was exacting full penalty for Robin's
disregard of her at the Nottingham Fair.

She had employed her hand also against the maid Fitzwalter, as we shall
find later.

Robin, in forbidding silence, strode along the road until they neared
the shrine of St. Dunstan, when he looked eagerly toward the stout
little hut of the clerk, hoping to find his old friend standing at the
door of it, with his barking dogs.

All was silent, however, and deserted. To Robin's surprise, the gate of
the palisade stood wide open; and the door of the hut also. He glanced
at Will.

"Surely the priest is abroad imprudently, master?" said young Stuteley.
"See how he has left his little house--open to the world! He must be of
a very trusting nature for sure."

"I remember now that the gate was unlatched yesterday," spoke Robin,
slowly. "I noticed it then and meant to talk with you on the point,
Will. I hope that no evil has befallen the clerk."

"'Tis three weeks or more since we have had tidings of him," said
Stuteley. "Shall we go in and make search?"

They entered the rude dwelling and soon exhausted every hole and corner
of it in a vain hunt for some token of the clerk. The kennels at the
back were empty and forlorn; and some bread which they found in the
hermit's tiny larder was mouldy and very stale.

"Let us push on to Locksley, Will; mayhap we shall have better cheer
waiting us there!"

They trudged on quietly. His master's depression had reached and
overcome merry Stuteley. They began unconsciously to walk quickly and
more quickly still as they approached Locksley. The day was overcast and
very still.

Presently Robin, throwing back his head, sniffed the air.

"Surely there is a strange smell in these woods, Will? Does it not seem
to you that there is a taste of burning grasses in the breeze?"

"Master," answered Stuteley, his face suddenly paling at some inner
fear, "I do smell fire such as a blazing house would give forth. Well do
I know the scent of it; ha