hen I see them!"

"You shall feel them, little Roger," said Little John, very angry. And
he soundly cuffed the cook about the head. Roger snarlingly drew back
and snatched up a dish. Full viciously he flung it at Little John, and
after it another and another.

[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN FIGHTS WITH THE COOK IN THE SHERIFF'S HOUSE

_At last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious. Dishes,
plates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in the way of them went
flying._]

The first struck the giant's shoulder and fell clattering upon the red
tiles. The second dish struck Little John as he recoiled and cut his
forehead and head. Blood ran down instantly over his cheek. The third
smashed itself against the wall harmlessly. Drawing in his breath,
Little John commenced a long chase of his foe, who had raced off to the
other side of the table.

Neither man spoke, but each eyed the other warily. Anger shone on one
face, jealous hate upon the other. They moved round and round the table
carefully.

There were knives in plenty upon it; and every now and again Roger would
seize one and fling it hurriedly at his enemy. Little John ruthlessly
followed him, without flinching or abating his set purpose by one jot.

At last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious. Dishes,
plates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in the way of them went
flying. The noise was awful; then suddenly ceased--for Little John had
grasped his prey by the short skirt of his tunic. In another second of
time Roger was secured, fluttering, cursing, and green with a sick
terror.

Little John lifted him up bodily and flung him with all his strength
against the wall of the kitchen. He rebounded from the wall to the
dresser; and in convulsive agony gripped hold of those utensils near
him. All fell, with reverberations of sound, downward with him to the
ground. There Roger lay still--save for a slight and hideous twitching
of his mouth.

Little John opened the door to Robin. "Hasten--hasten away from here,
soon as you can. There is danger and death."

"And you?"

"I shall escape. I have a story for them." Little John suddenly pushed
Robin back into the larder. "'Tis too late: be silent on your life."

Some servants, alarmed by the din, entered. They found Little John, the
new kitchen-drawer, bending in consternation over the lifeless form of
the cook. "Run, run," cried he, scarce glancing at them. "Here is Roger
the cook suddenly